


New Days

by zhovel



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, F/F, Fake Dating, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, this is your local fic author begging u to communicate, vampire jinsol, way too much homoeroticism, wlw being useless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhovel/pseuds/zhovel
Summary: “Jinsol,” Sooyoung says, and every single sane part of Jinsol’s mind strains at her, screams at her to stop listening. And yet Jinsol doesn’t run away, doesn’t flee like she should be doing. “Look at me,” Sooyoung says, and Jinsol listens. “Are you a vampire?”(or; Jinsol gets turned into a vampire while on tour, Sooyoung finds out, and they have to hide it from the rest of LOONA together.)
Relationships: Ha Sooyoung | Yves/Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul
Comments: 184
Kudos: 694





	1. Chapter 1

Jinsol loses her patience on the fifth stop. 

It’s been two months since she’s had a day to herself. Jinsol doesn’t mean to count the days, but how can she not? The tour bus is loud and crowded with all twelve of them on it; for some godforsaken reason, Haseul had convinced the manager to book them one bus instead of two because _‘it’s good team bonding time!’_ and _‘it’s cheaper to share bunks!’_ — Jinsol mouths to herself along to the memory, bitter. 

Not that she didn’t like Sooyoung. But the girl was all limbs and sharp elbows when she slept next to Jinsol, and Jinsol wasn’t exactly _not_ tall herself, despite what the other members tell her. No, they were basically giants within LOONA. A bad combination. 

They had the worst of it, she thinks. Not like Yeojin and Yerim. Short and stackable.

Exhausted, cranky, and not a single chance to unwind alone, she’s starting to get tired of all the noise, crew members, and cameras following them around for LoonaTheTourDocumentary. Jinsol has tried hiding in the bathroom alone with her earbuds in, blasting music; but the peace doesn’t last long when there’s twelve girls on one bus and only one bathroom.

Haseul flings a pillow towards Yeojin and misses. It hits Jinsol right in the chest. Jinsol scowls, tosses it back, then stands abruptly. 

“I’m gonna go outside for a second,” she announces to no one in particular. 

“Isn’t it a little too late?” Jungeun says, yawning.

With Jungeun’s gaze on her like that— worried and soft at the same time, Jinsol can feel her previous annoyance melting away. She opens her mouth to agree, but then Chaewon lets out an ear shattering scream from the other side of the tour bus, something about Yerim stealing her face mask, and the spell is broken.

“I’m going,” she repeats firmly, and plucks imaginary lint off her sweater so she doesn’t have to meet Jungeun’s eyes. 

Jungeun shrugs and flops onto Jiwoo’s lap, stretching up to poke at the other girl’s cheek, casual, familiar, and without a second thought. Jinsol pretends it doesn’t sting that Jungeun’s attention leaves her so easily.

She hurries down the stairs, leaving the thought behind. 

* * *

In hindsight, maybe she shouldn’t have gone out that night. 

Jinsol doesn’t remember much — a wrong turn, a dark alley. Someone knocking away the phone that she was using as a flashlight.

Pain. 

Dizziness. 

A voice murmuring in her ear, words she can’t remember; someone telling her to drink.

Somehow, she must have made her way back onto the bus without passing out, because she remembers Sooyoung watching her crawl into bed, her eyes dark and intense in the dimly-lit room.

“Have a good time?”

“Yes,” Jinsol says. She’s hot and cold all over. 

The silence droops over them, comforting. Sooyoung stretches away from her a moment later.

“I’m cold,” she whines when Jinsol complains about her stealing the blankets. “Your feet are freezing.”

Jinsol shoves a knee up between Sooyoung’s thighs. “Well, they wouldn’t be if you give me _my_ part of the blankets back.” 

Sooyoung shifts so they’re facing each other. Her hair fans out between them, dark tendrils that tickle Jinsol’s nose. “I will, if you don’t wander off the bus alone again.” 

Jinsol swipes the hair away from her face, fake disgust on her face just for Sooyoung. “What does that have to do with this?” she says, but she can’t keep the smile off her face. 

The curtain shielding their bed from the other bunks twitches open. Jungeun’s face pops into view, the dark circles under her eyes prominent, somehow managing to look like a goddess in her baggy pyjamas. Jinsol twitches away from Sooyoung, even though the blankets are covering their bodies.

“You know we can hear you, right?” says Jungeun, voice husky from tiredness. Jinsol shivers at it, and she knows Sooyoung feels it because the girl snorts. Jinsol digs her elbow into Sooyoung’s waist, but Sooyoung doesn’t even flinch. 

Asshole.

“Some of us are trying to sleep.” 

Jinsol whispers a quiet _sorry_ and pulls the curtains shut again. At least Sooyoung has the grace to wait until Jungeun’s bed creaks.

“So, Jungeun, huh? Why did you—”

Jinsol lets out an offended squeak. “Be _quiet_ ,” she hisses, kicking Sooyoung in the shin.

“That hurt,” says Sooyoung, in a pitiful voice. “You kicked me.”

Jinsol rolls over to the other side of the bed. “Maybe if you knew how to shut up, you wouldn’t be in pain right now.”

She spends the rest of the night as far away from Sooyoung as she can. 

* * *

Jinsol wakes to the choking warmth of eleven other people in the room. She kicks the covers away from her and onto Sooyoung, makes a frustrated little noise, and stomps off to shower. Everything seems different, somehow. Sharper. Like someone had turned the volume all the way up, but for everything Jinsol can see and hear and smell. 

The thought makes something under her skin crawl, so she pushes it away and starts lathering soap onto herself. But then she sees the bruise on her wrist, a patch of ugly red and purple flowering on her pale skin. 

Jinsol frowns. Did she get in a fight with someone last night, or something? 

She hovers a hand on top of the mark and hesitates. It looks bad. She still wants to touch it, though.

_Whatever._

Jinsol presses down gingerly. 

She wasn’t prepared for the sudden, agonising wave of pain that rushes over her, making her flinch away and double over, hissing. She hugs her wrist to her chest, but it doesn’t help much. She’s never felt anything as purely excruciating before. 

Jinsol braces her other arm around the wall and starts crying in earnest, silent tears of pain that drop down and mix with the bathwater, swirling down the drain. She spends the rest of the shower sitting down until someone knocks on the door and tells her to hurry up. 

“You good?” Hyejoo says when she sees Jinsol come out, steam wafting out from behind her. “Your eyes are puffy.”

Jinsol manages to give her a watery smile. “Yeah.”

Their makeup artist is going to have a field day covering the bruise up. That, and her swollen eyes. 

* * *

That night, Jinsol hits her high notes and manages not to twist her ankle on stage, and suddenly, their sixth performance is over. Their biggest one yet, the one they’re recording for the documentary. They crowd around each other on stage, sweaty but so, so happy as the cameras zoom in; and the crowd roars behind them. They wobble off while still hugging each other, and Jinsol swears she sees Hyejoo wipe her tears and snot on Chaewon’s shoulder, but it doesn’t matter. They’re all a mess. 

Jungeun hugs her from behind. “You did good today,” she mumbles into Jinsol’s neck, her words muffled by how she buries her face into Jinsol’s curtain of ashy-brown hair. 

Jinsol twists so they’re facing each other. She cups Jungeun’s face in her hands, wiping away the smeared lipstick on the corner of her mouth. 

“We did.” 

Jungeun laughs breathily. “Your hands are so cold,” she says. “I’ll warm you up. Come here.”

She rests her hands on Jinsol’s lower back and uses it to pull herself closer — and suddenly, Jinsol’s close enough to realise that Jungeun smells _heavenly_ ; she’s warm and buttery and _something else_ that makes Jinsol want to sink her teeth into it — Jinsol doesn’t know how to describe it, because she didn’t know a person could feel that good. It’s like Jinsol’s drunk on Jungeun's scent because she forgets about everything else. No one else matters. 

She dips her head, trying to be as subtle as she can and inhales. 

“Are you sniffing me?” Jungeun asks. There’s a faint flush on her cheeks when Jinsol meets her eyes, light brown under the harsh white lights of the dressing room. “You’re so weird.”

Oops. 

Jungeun’s still smiling at her, so Jinsol pushes her uneasiness away and sticks her tongue out instead. 

“You stink,” Jinsol says. 

Jungeun gasps with mock offense. “I don’t!” she protests, punching Jinsol softly in the shoulder. 

Jinsol wrinkles her nose up. “Ergh. Stinky.”

Jungeun puffs her cheeks out, but Kahei passes beside them before the snarky retort can roll off her tongue. Jungeun’s attention slides to her.

“Unnie!” says Jungeun, brightening, hooking an arm around Kahei’s waist so she can’t leave. “Tell Jinsol I smell great.”

_You do._

Kahei looks at Jinsol. Jinsol wiggles her eyebrows at her. 

“You smell,” Kahei says, shrugging, pink lips tugged into an amused smile. She spins around and marches away with her head held up high. 

Jinsol blows a raspberry into Jungeun’s neck. Jungeun shrieks and squirms away from her, as ticklish as always.

* * *

The tour bus passes through a state, and another. No one’s counting the places they pass anymore.

Somehow, all twelve of them end up in the master bedroom where 1/3 sleep, having multiple conversations over each other at the same time. They had played rock-paper-scissors for the only room, Haseul against Sooyoung (who was playing on behalf of Jiwoo, Jungeun and Jinsoul) and Hyejoo; because no one wanted the bunk beds lining the middle of the bus apart from Yeojin and Choerry. Sooyoung had lost, and now they’re spending the entire tour sharing their cramped bunk bed.

Jinsol still thinks that the game was rigged.

Heejin jumps onto the double bed. Chaewon, sitting on the edge, barely manages to not fall by grabbing onto Jiwoo, and the poor girl shoots Heejin a dark look that Heejin brushes off with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“I’m bored,” Heejin says. 

“Charades?” Haseul suggests.

Within minutes, the room delves into chaos, bright and loud and overwhelming. Jinsol sticks it out the best she can, curled up against Sooyoung and watching the others yell over each other. 

(“She’s cheating!” Jungeun says, pointing an accusing finger at Hyunjin, right as Hyunjin lunges at Jungeun and pins her down onto the bed by her wrists, growling at her.)

Jungeun’s skin is translucent under the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Jinsol can see the veins on her wrists as she gestures wildly at Haseul. Sooyoung is stroking her hair, Jinsol registers half-heartedly, but then she gets distracted by the way she can hear Jungeun’s blood pulsing inside her — and as suddenly as it went away, the itch under her skin starts crawling again. 

Jinsol startles uncomfortably. She bats Sooyoung’s soft hands away from her. 

“Gon’ pee,” she mumbles, propping herself up. “‘Mergency.”

She should clear her head, that’s what she needs.

“Alright, sleepyhead,” Sooyoung says teasingly, gently shoving Jinsol away from the bed and sending her stumbling towards the wall. “You sound so drowsy. Get some rest tonight, okay?” 

Jinsol’s been napping throughout the day instead of sleeping at night, something that started recently, maybe because she’s been chugging coffee more on tour. She spends her nights trying not to move so that she doesn’t disturb Sooyoung.

“You noticed?” 

Sooyoung grins at her. “‘Course. You’re my friend.” 

But when Jinsol exits the bathroom, the way Sooyoung’s leaning on the wall outside the door doesn’t feel like it. It feels like a trap, somehow; the way Sooyoung picks her apart without a word.

Jinsol flickers her gaze towards Sooyoung. “What?” she says defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. Suddenly, she understands why deers are skittish creatures a little bit better, because if they weren’t on a bus right now, Jinsol would be running towards the nearest exit. 

“You’ve been— watching Jungeun a lot,” Sooyoung says, slowly, as if she’s choosing her words. “Her hands, just now.”

“Have I?” Jinsol counters, a little too quickly to be casual. 

“I didn’t know it was serious,” Sooyoung answers, matching Jinsol’s stance. “So, the awkward type, huh?” 

They stare at each other for another moment, before Jinsol blinks, breaking their little unspoken contest and the odd tension in the air, and pushes the bedroom door open.

* * *

Jinsol’s good at a lot of things. Hiding. Patience. 

When she was four, she played hide-and-seek with her cousins during Christmas. She had spent four hours in silence, trapping herself between the wall and the couch, wondering why no one could find her, only to realise that they’d finished the game long ago and moved onto something else when she crawled back out. 

Jinsol has always been good at keeping quiet.

But again, she’s never had this itch under her skin before. The _thing —_ whatever it is that she can’t get rid of for the past two days, something that’s been going on ever since Jungeun hugged her after their concert. 

It’s been making her heart beat so fast she can’t feel her own pulse. Sometimes Jinsol holds her breath as long as she can to feel like she’s in control of the thing pent up inside her, the weird, fizzling energy that keeps her leg bouncing nonstop. Hyejoo had finally snapped and spent the last two hours sitting on her lap because she said it was driving her crazy.

Jinsol doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

She’s not quite sure she can hide it anymore, but then she thinks about going to the hospital and getting tests and _needles drawing blood out of her_ , and god no, needles. 

No one needs to know about this, she decides. Even if she might go crazy if whatever this is doesn’t ease off soon. 

* * *

“I’m craving steak,” Yeojin groans from the couch, rubbing her stomach. She’s been lying down for the past ten minutes, going on and on about all the food she’s been missing since they left Korea. Jinsol’s been nodding mindlessly along just to appease her. 

But _steak…_ the word gets caught in her head.

“Can you _imagine_ eating a meal without kimc—”

“—I want steak,” Jinsol interrupts. 

Yeojin perks up. 

“Let’s convince them!” she says, rolling off the couch and standing up in a smooth motion. “I want steak. I want steak. I _want_ steak.” 

She tugs Jinsol around the tour bus hurriedly, somehow managing to drag Haseul and Kahei and Jungeun into her plan, and before long, their bus is parked beside a steakhouse and Yeojin’s pulling Jinsol off the bus.

“Here we go!” she announces proudly, and Jinsol can’t help but beam down at the girl. Yeojin has her space buns in, again, and it reminds Jinsol a little of the hyperactive kid she befriended years ago. But now Yeojin is older, calmer — still hasn't grown taller though.

Jinsol holds her hand up, sudden nostalgia in her heart. They high five. 

“You two are a horrible pair,” says Hyejoo, trailing behind them and scuffing the bottom of her sneakers against the gravel, her shadow a small circle beneath her thanks to the midday sun. “I’m tired.”

Chaewon catches up to them. She knocks her shoulder against Hyejoo so hard that Hyejoo stumbles. “Quit that. The shoes were expensive,” she says, somehow managing to make her tiny voice sound stern. 

Hyejoo stops. 

Jinsol and Yeojin turn towards each other, shrug in unison, and high five again.

Hyejoo groans.

“I want steak?” Jinsol offers as an apology, turning towards Hyejoo, much to the younger girl’s disdain. 

They get halfway through the meal before things start going downhill. 

Heejin gets up to go to the bathroom. She pauses beside Jinsol when she comes back, wiping her hands dry on the back of her jeans.

“I didn’t know you liked your steaks this raw,” she says, peering at Jinsol’s plate. Her glasses slip off her face, too big and wiry on her tall nose. Heejin pushes them back in place unconsciously. “It doesn’t even look cooked.” 

Jinsol spears a square of meat on her fork and chews. “I’m hungry,” she says with her mouth full, then swallows.

Heejin laughs and slides back beside Hyunjin. “It’s like you’re drinking blood.” 

“Are you a vampire or something?” Hyejoo pipes up, just an offhand comment, but Jinsol freezes up until she notices Sooyoung’s gaze on her, lingering a little too long to be casual. She quickly ducks her head back down and immerses herself in Jungeun’s conversation with Jiwoo, ignoring the uncomfortable racing of her heart.

* * *

Jinsol jerks awake from her nap, heaving uncontrollably. 

She’s distracted by the sweet, metallic tang in the air — some deep, hidden part of her roars in approval of it, shoving its way out of the tiny box Jinsol’s managed to keep it contained in. She closes her eyes and tastes the air, breathing in deep enough to make something inside her swell and erupt, and—

Jinsol jumps at the uncontrollable shock of pain in her mouth. Something’s forcing her lips open. 

She reaches up uncertainly.

Jinsol lets out a yelp when she feels them. There are _fangs_ where her teeth should have been, sharp and long enough to pierce skin — and she slaps a shaking hand over her mouth to cover them, looking around.

With twelve girls on one bus, it is a miracle that this is happening at a time without anyone around her, Jinsol realises, looking around. Most of the members had gone to a nearby zoo for the day. Jinsol had stayed behind to catch up on sleep. Sooyoung had stayed too, saying that she wanted to make sure Jinsol was alright. 

_Sooyoung_. 

The thought of the girl sends panic racing through Jinsol. 

Sooyoung _can’t_ know. 

She can’t see this— she’s going to tell everyone— Jungeun’s going to know— Jinsol is going to get kicked out of BBC and starve to death on the streets— Jinsol has to leave. 

The only thing Jinsol is certain about is that she _has to leave_. 

Jinsol tumbles off the bus and breaks out into a clumsy run, finally letting the buried part of her unfold. The roads start blurring behind her as she picks up speed, going faster than any human should have been able to.

But that’s the thing. Jinsol isn’t human, not anymore. 

The second she smelled blood, it felt like this dam breaking inside her. Whatever has been kept at bay is now roaming Jinsol’s mind, writhing inside and tunneling its way through her. It was like this— compulsion. Something monstrous growing and taking over and Jinsol _has to drink_ , she can’t not drink. Jinsol doesn’t know how she got off the bus before she pounced on Sooyoung, because she can feel her body starting to take over, her mind going fuzzy like static on her grandpa’s old TV. Cravings, over control.

She _has_ to drink. 

Jinsol’s smart enough to know that she’s not just herself anymore; but apparently she just wasn’t smart enough to stay on a bus when it was dark outside.

She ends up stopping next to an empty road that she didn’t know of, but it was like her body _knew_ by itself. Jinsol inhales and follows the smell, until she sees the blood seeping out into the road. She tracks it to a tiny bird, hidden by the grass, tire tracks beside it. 

Roadkill. 

Jinsol crouches down.

The bird seems to stare at Jinsol, glassy eyes telling her that it’s been long gone. Jinsol stares back. She swallows the bile threatening to erupt from her throat.

She can’t do this.

Jinsol loves animals.

She turns back towards the direction of the bus and takes a step away; but then a sudden wave of craving crashes over her, stronger and more powerful than it had ever been before, stopping her in her tracks. Jinsol manages to take another, agonising step before collapsing beside the road. 

She’s panting, Jinsol realises. Fingers clenched against her palm so hard that her nails are leaving crescents in her skin. 

Her body not entirely her own anymore, Jinsol crawls towards the bird, fangs gleaming from the orange glow of the sunset. 

Jinsol steels herself. Then, she closes her eyes and feeds, hating herself more with every mouthful of blood she swallows. 

Jinsol spends that night thinking about Hyejoo’s words. 

_Are you a vampire or something_?

Is that what she is, then? 

The word makes her want to laugh, almost — it’s not as if Jinsol believes in anything supernatural. But then she thinks about her new, sharpened senses, the way Jungeun’s blood had pulsed through her veins, the tiny bird — and, well, she can’t muster up the courage to trick herself into believing that this isn’t true. 

* * *

Nothing changes. 

Nothing important, anyway; Jinsol can still fake it where it counts. She doesn’t mess up her stages too much, manages to laugh along to all the jokes the other members make and keep the cravings at bay until midnight comes, and then she sneaks off the bus to feed. 

As much as she hates it, the taste of blood every night is what keeps her going. She tells herself that it’s alright, because she’s not hurting anyone, only taking from nature what nature took from her. 

(It’s not alright. The animals aren’t enough, and that’s what makes Jinsol terrified.)

* * *

Being an idol was hard. Being a _vampire_ idol, on the other hand, was something that would scare off any sane person; and yet Jinsol manages to push through the seventh concert without breaking her composure. 

No one seems to notice anything. Well, no one but— 

“You’ve been acting weird recently,” Sooyoung says that night before she goes to sleep, tilting her head so her face mask doesn’t fall off. “You don’t even come to bed anymore. Or eat with us. You’re eating so little.”

Jinsol sits on the couch and stares off into the distance. The moon is shining brighter tonight. There’s the dead body of a rabbit close to them, she can make it back within half an hour, but there’s a pigeon further away. Much further away. 

Jinsol likes the taste of pigeons. 

She’s been testing the limits of how far she can go, recently, and she hasn’t been disappointed yet. Already, she’s mapping out the roads in her head. The whole seeing-in-the-dark thing comes in handy, she thinks. And her sense of smell. 

“Jinsol, are you sure you’re okay?”

She can make it back before sunrise. Probably.

Sooyoung waves a hand in front of her face. “Jinsol?”

“Hm?” she replies, turning back to meet Sooyoung’s structinising eyes. The girl suddenly looks so small, kneeling in front of Jinsol. Jinsol’s used to looking up at her. 

Sooyoung sighs. “Nothing.”

So she doesn’t make it back before sunrise, big deal. Except for some reason, Sooyoung’s propped up near the door of the tour bus, sleeping with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

Jinsol turns away and tiptoes towards their bunk, but then a steely voice cuts into the damp morning air. 

“Hi, Jinsol.”

Jinsol’s footsteps falter. She spins towards Sooyoung, meeting the girl’s tired eyes. 

“Why are you up this early?” Jinsol demands. “It’s barely sunrise.”

Sooyoung looks softer, somehow, without all the makeup they usually wear, and Jinsol can see the little imperfections on her face that usually get covered up. Jinsol likes this side of her. It’s something she doesn’t get to see often. 

But then Sooyoung purses her lips, says “why are _you_ up this early?” like she’s Jinsol’s mum or something, and that thought is washed away by how annoyed it makes Jinsol feel.

“It’s none of your business,” Jinsol retorts. 

Sooyoung sticks out a foot and kicks her in the shin. Jinsol stumbles.

“HEY!”

Sooyoung glares at Jinsol. 

“Actually,” she starts. She pulls the blanket off her shoulders and tosses it away from her, still cross-legged on the floor. “I think you’d find it’s every single bit _my_ business. So if you don’t mind, tell me why you’re getting off the bus without telling anyone? At six in the morning?” 

Jinsol racks her head for an excuse. “I— uh— I wanted to go buy coffee for everyone?” 

Sooyoung frowns. 

“Not a single shop was open. That’s why I don’t have anything,” Jinsol says, spreading her hands, eyes wide and innocent. “I just wanted everyone to have a break from the shitty coffee machine on the bus.”

Sooyoung doesn’t say anything. 

Jinsol feels like she’s in a game and chose the wrong dialogue option; because Sooyoung drops the stern persona, and it kind of freaks Jinsol out. Instead, Sooyoung starts gnawing on her lower lip, still staring at Jinsol. She bites down so hard that Jinsol can see tiny tooth marks, and Jinsol _hates_ it when Sooyoung gets like this, all anxious and small. She moves towards Sooyoung and hooks her finger around Sooyoung’s chin, lifting it up.

“Don’t do that,” Jinsol says softly, tracing the pad of her thumb across Sooyoung’s red, swollen lip until it springs free of her teeth. “It’s bad for you.”

“There’s blood on your face,” Sooyoung says quietly. Her eyes track Jinsol’s every movement.

Jinsol wipes at her face with her sleeve. “There. It’s gone.”

“Are you okay?”

Jinsol’s mind goes fuzzy. She’s been preparing for an interrogation, but not— not this. Not Sooyoung’s honesty, not the warmth of her breath on Jinsol’s cheek. And the way Sooyoung sounds — it feels too safe. Like a trap. 

Jinsol doesn’t know how to deal with safety. 

So she counts the shoes strewn beside the table, traces the cracks in the ceilings, anywhere; anything but Sooyoung. 

“I tripped,” she lies, unconvincingly. 

They both know it.

“You can’t be honest with me, can you?” Sooyoung drops her head on Jinsol’s shoulder with a woeful laugh. She sounds tired, vulnerable, broken; all her guards down in the early hours of morning. Or maybe it was just Jinsol, this time. Because they’ve been alone together for so many times during LOONA movie nights, and Jinsol’s never heard Sooyoung sound like that. 

“Jinsol?” Sooyoung whispers, her voice cracking on the last syllable. “Why are you lying to me?”

Jinsol jerks away from Sooyoung as if she’s been burned. “I’m not.”

“Jinsol…” Sooyoung repeats. Jinsol hates the way her name sounds in Sooyoung’s mouth, drenched with pity. “It’s okay. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Jinsol doesn’t remember how to breathe. She can feel her muscles, clenched so tightly that Jinsol can’t move, but she doesn’t remember how to use them anymore.

Her hand’s fallen to rest on Sooyoung’s thigh, Jinsol realises. She snatches it away, and if she were still human, the blood would have rushed up to her face. But now Jinsol just feels cold, and empty, and so afraid that she doesn’t know what to say anymore, and all the words choke up in her throat before Jinsol can speak. 

It’s suffocating.

“Jinsol,” Sooyoung says, and every single sane part of Jinsol’s mind strains at her, screams at her to stop listening. And yet Jinsol doesn’t run away, doesn’t flee like she should be doing. “Look at me,” Sooyoung says, and Jinsol listens.

“Are you a vampire?” 

Jinsol opens her mouth. She means to deny it, to refuse every single explanation Sooyoung is giving her, but no words manage to come out. 

Something wet drops on her knee. 

She didn’t even notice the silent tears sliding down her cheeks until now. 

“I don’t know,” Jinsol admits, the most honest she’s ever been since that day. “Sooyoung.” 

She says her name like a prayer.

“It’s okay,” Sooyoung answers, opening her arms. “We can figure it out together, it’s okay, I promise.” 

Jinsol lets herself fall. She buries her face in Sooyoung’s shoulder, whimpering out heaving sobs that leave her choking for breath. Sooyoung’s arms wrap around her, warm and comforting as she rubs circles on Jinsol’s back; the only normalcy left in Jinsol’s life.

* * *

Jinsol doesn’t mean to keep her distance from the others, she really doesn’t. 

It’s just that — it’s kind of hard to do anything other than smile and nod and slip in a few words when all of her attention is focused on the delicious thrum of Jungeun’s blood through her veins. She barely even notices Sooyoung’s careful hand on her knee, the only thing keeping her grounded until they get back to the tour bus, and the next thing she’s sure of is that Sooyoung’s tucking her into their bed. 

“Go to sleep, okay?” Sooyoung says, the closest thing to tenderness Jinsol has ever heard. She kisses Jinsol’s forehead and pulls the covers up to her chin.

Jinsol’s wakes up to hushed chatter between the other members. She groans, still groggy. It’s not nice being reminded of the real world, not right now when she’s safe in her little cocoon, hidden behind the drawn curtains of their bed. 

The murmur of her friends’ voices is comforting, in its own odd little way. But then she hears something that makes her ears perk up. (The good thing about her newfound powers? Eavesdropping is easier than ever.)

Hyejoo says, “unnie, I’m worried about her,” and the squeak in her voice is still as endearing as it was on the first day Jinsol met her, sitting in front of a blank wall, the blue lights glaring on them as Jinsol tugs the earbud from her and pretends to whisper into her ear.

“I dunno,” Jungeun answers quietly. “She hasn’t been clingy with me recently.”

_Who?_

“Not just you. It’s everyone,” Hyejoo says. “She’s friendly with Yerim, but she didn’t even ask if she was okay after she tripped on stage. Jinsol unnie isn’t that cold. It’s not like her.”

 _Oh._

In Jinsol’s defense, she was trying not to sink her teeth into Yerim’s neck when that happened, not like they would throw flowers at her feet for that. Funny how she used to take things like that for granted. 

“The weird thing is,” Hyejoo continues, “it’s like Jinsol just— retracted, into her own world. All of a sudden. I wonder what happened.”

There’s a complentative silence, and then—

“I just don’t want her to get sick, you know?” Jungeun says, suddenly. “But I can’t just go and— ask her what’s wrong, we’re not— we don’t talk about things like that.”

Hyejoo sighs. “I’m not exactly— the right person, either,” and then the two of them must have turned to look at Sooyoung, because Jinsol hears the screech of Sooyoung’s chair as she stands up, her mannerisms as familiar as the back of Jinsol’s hand and so, so easy to pick out. 

“I don’t know how to talk to her without making things worse,” Jungeun says under her breath. “The whole— crush, thing?”

_Huh._

_Wait._

_Oh god, no._

_Jungeun knows? And Hyejoo, too?_

This is easily the worst day of her life. 

Jinsol buries her face into her pillow and groans.

Forget being turned into a vampire, this is the most horrific, terrible, awful — Jinsol runs out of synonyms, but the thought still counts — possible scenario that could be happening right now; and Jinsol’s not even being as melodramatic as usual. 

The only logical thing to do is to fake her own death.

Before Jinsol can decide between if she should dive under the nearest moving car or stick her fork in the toaster, she hears the footsteps of Sooyoung, swooping in beside Hyejoo, like an angel descending from heaven. (The voice in the back of Jinsol’s mind interrupts with an inappropriate ‘ _did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’_ because she’s a sucker for bad pick-up lines, and it happens that Sooyoung is undeniably _gorgeous_.)

“Didn’t mean to overhear you,” Sooyoung interrupts smoothly. Jinsol hears Hyejoo shuffle, making space for the older girl. “But no, I was thinking about Jinsol too. We chat sometimes, before we go to sleep? Not like you and Jiwoo, Jungeun, but like— enough.”

 _Traitor_.

Jinsol’s torn. She doesn’t know if she wants to punch or hug Sooyoung right now — her sense of timing was impeccable, but sometimes Jinsol really wishes she knows who’s side Sooyoung is on apart from her own. 

“I’ll talk—” Sooyoung says, right as Jungeun asks, “can you—”, and then an awkward silence falls upon the trio. 

Jinsol doesn’t like it. Hyejoo must’ve thought the same, because she coughs awkwardly, but the two older girls are caught in a stare-off.

Jinsol takes pity on her. She stretches out, arm hitting the headboard with a dull thump, then yawns as loudly as she can.

There’s no way they don’t know she’s up now.

“She’s awake!” Jungeun hisses, and Jinsol just knows instinctively, without even being there, that Sooyoung’s rolling her eyes behind Jungeun’s back. The thought makes a sudden burst of mirth bubble up inside her. She pushes it down quickly. 

She basks in the silence that follows, but then something creaks nearby. 

Jinsol draws the curtains back— squints for a second because of the sudden bright light streaming in— and sees Sooyoung trying to sit down on the bed opposite to theirs, her legs scrunched up awkwardly to her chest because of how close it was to the floor.

Sooyoung looks up sheepishly. “Hi?” 

Jinsol pouts at her. “I could hear you guys, you know.”

“Superpowers?” Sooyoung says, tilting her head, easily as if there is nothing wrong with Jinsol, and Jinsol can’t help the stupid smile spreading across her face. She offers Jinsol a hand. “Wanna get out of here?”

And Jinsol doesn’t think twice before accepting, just like how Sooyoung never thought twice about helping Jinsol. 

* * *

The wind is chilly today. No one’s coming outside beside them. The dusk creeps in, as slowly as a wave unfurling on a beach before crashing down, and steals her breath away. 

Jinsol huffs out a puff of air. It doesn’t form a cloud of mist, she doesn’t know why she’s disappointed. 

Sooyoung’s staring off into the distance, expression dark, brows furrowed as if deep in thought. Jinsol wonders what she’s thinking about. 

“This can’t go on,” Sooyoung breaks the silence. She doesn’t shift even when the wind whips her hair in her face.

Jinsol tugs her leather jacket closer, shivering. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“This can’t go on,” Sooyoung repeats. “You heard what they said, right? About you?”

_Jungeun._

Jinsol suddenly feels claustrophobic, even though she’s staring at the empty, wide American roads; too scared to run away and too scared to stay. 

_About me_ , she thinks. _They were talking about me._

And that’s the thing that frightens her. Because Jinsol has never been one of the popular ones, and she’s all too aware that her grasp on friendship and fame is as weak as her hair after she bleached it. The thing about LOONA is that, well — they didn’t become friends of their own accord, they sort of _had_ to get along. Jinsol doubts that she would’ve been as close to some of the members otherwise. 

Jinsol doesn’t play favourites. She’s not alone, exactly — but a part of her resents the way some of them pair off sometimes: Heejin and Hyunjin, Jungeun and Jiwoo, Olivia and Chaewon. If anything, the closest thing she has to a best friend is Sooyoung. But the girl still confuses her. Jinsol doesn’t know where she stands, with Sooyoung and Jungeun and everyone else; and yet, she’s grown to like the steadfast dependency of eleven other people, with their personalities that rub each other in all the wrong ways and clash and yield, she thinks. 

This sudden thrust into a tight-knit group is something that makes her want to keep one eye on the exit, because, _what if_? 

It’s ironic how she admits this to herself right as the ‘ _what if_ ’ she has been so afraid of, all this time, arrives. Because she’s going to lose everything if they find out. 

She doesn’t want to lose them. 

Sooyoung’s eyes are on her, all this time, careful and unwavering.

“Aren’t you scared?” Jinsol asks, tilting her head up, up, up. “Of me.”

“You haven’t given me a reason to be afraid,” Sooyoung says simply. “And I know you.”

_Do you?_

The stars are coming out. Jinsol doesn’t know any constellations, not that well. Jungeun told her about the stars, once, under the dimly-lit street lights as Jinsol was walking her home, and Jinsol had spent too much time looking at Jungeun and her lips and not enough time listening to Jungeun.

Maybe things would’ve been different.

Sooyoung says “you’re a good person”, and the raw honesty in her voice tugs at Jinsol’s heartstrings. She’s never been here before, with another person — never learnt how to react when someone’s guard is down. 

So she drops her guard, just a little. Enough.

“What if I’m not?”

_Not good._

_Not a person._

_Not enough._

Jinsol thinks in negatives, and maybe that’s why she likes having people like Yerim and Jiwoo around.

“You’ll find that I’m rarely wrong,” Sooyoung says. She lifts a hand halfway up, then changes her mind and lets it fall. It swings emptily. “When it comes to people.”

A bird chirps, far away. Sooyoung doesn’t hear it.

Jinsol clenches her fingers tight against her palm. Her hands aren’t clammy, yet. 

“You have two options,” Sooyoung says. “One, I tell everyone. Two, I help you with whatever you need, on one condition.”

Sooyoung smells like her aloe vera shampoo and lotion and something that can’t be labelled as anything but _Sooyoung_ , sweet and unyielding; and Jinsol has a sudden urge to move closer. 

So Jinsol holds her breath. She doesn’t breathe, does not need to — and Sooyoung’s still there. So Jinsol closes her eyes, and asks, “What is it?”

“You don’t shut me out.”

And that’s when Jinsol’s shell cracks. 

She’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop all this time Sooyoung’s been talking — waiting for her to say that Jinsol shouldn’t be performing anymore. She doesn’t understand how Sooyoung can pretend that everything’s fine. She’s talking like Jinsol has to hide a tattoo or something.

As much as she’s wary, Jinsol _needs_ that normalcy like Jungeun craves coffee in the morning. So her resolve crumbles.

Jinsol admits, “I need your help”, shifts to her other foot, “please.”

“What do you want me to do,” Sooyoung says, the slightest hint of a Busan lilt in her voice; safety. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“Anything?” Jinsol breathes out, desperate.

“Anything,” Sooyoung promises. 

And Jinsol doesn’t know how she didn’t see this earlier, because the way Sooyoung’s looking at her right now, wide, open, honest, everything. She’s looking at Jinsol like Jinsol’s her universe. 

Maybe Jinsol isn’t as alone as she thinks.

“I need to hide this from Jungeun, please,” Jinsol says with a sudden bout of courage, reaching out for Sooyoung’s arm, pleading, “and the rest of them.”

Sooyoung’s face is a mask, but something in her eyes flicker — a flash of emotion, and then it’s gone. And Jinsol doesn’t know why that thought makes her feel so guilty, suddenly.

“You really care about her, huh?” Sooyoung says, her voice is so low that Jinsol wonders if she’s talking to herself or her. 

“You are my best friend,” Jinsol says, and then because Sooyoung is looking at her like _that—_ “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Okay,” Sooyoung answers. “I promised I would help, didn’t I?”

* * *

Eight and nine, Jinsol doesn’t mess those up either. She avoids Jungeun on stage, but doesn’t even flinch when Sooyoung leans in during their cover of _Gashina_ , close enough to be mistaken for kissing if you look at them from the wrong angle.

It’s different now that Sooyoung’s an ally in this cold, lonely war Jinsol’s fighting against herself. Sooyoung stays up to talk with her. Sometimes Jungeun comes by to tell them to shut up, because Haseul’s cozied up in the bedroom and can’t hear them — but Sooyoung distracts Jinsol and keeps her awake until the time comes. 

“You only drink blood at night, right?” Sooyoung says, when she’s certain that everyone else is asleep, and then catches the downturn of Jinsol’s mouth. “You don’t call it that?”

Jinsol ducks her head. “It’s stupid,” she says. “But it’s— I don’t like thinking about it.” 

“Alright,” Sooyoung says, and then rolls over to the other side of the bed so Jinsol can clamber out. 

Jinsol rinses her mouth with water when she gets back, still hungry even though she’s been feeding more recently, no longer picky about what she’s drinking from. The water swirls pink down the when she spits it out. The sight disgusts her. 

Jinsol slides under the covers only to see Sooyoung blink her eyes at her, owlish.

“Can’t sleep,” Sooyoung whispers hoarsely. “But I’m so tired.”

The words slip out of Jinsol’s mouth. “Turn around?” 

Sooyoung listens. She shifts — the covers slide off her — and Jinsol barely conceals her sharp inhale when she sees the cropped tank top Sooyoung wore to bed, braless. The light would be reflecting off Sooyoung’s bare shoulders if they weren’t in complete darkness, right now. 

Jinsol’s not sure where the line stands. She hesitates, unsure Sooyoung’s just too tired to care about what’s appropriate for a vampire and her friend and what’s not.

Jinsol thinks about Sooyoung jabbing her in the ribs while half-asleep, right where Jinsol’s hunger pangs are and winces; but it gives her a sudden bout of courage. She wraps an arm across Sooyoung’s bare midriff before she can change her mind.

Sooyoung sighs, a tiny huff of air that lingers between them. She scoots closer to Jinsol even though Jinsol’s skin is still cold — from the wind, from herself. 

“Thank you,” Sooyoung murmurs, hugging Jinsol’s hand to her stomach. The warmth blossoms between them. 

Jinsol doesn’t know why, but Sooyoung develops insomnia after that. She’s still awake when Jinsol comes back — Jinsol cuddles her until they both fall asleep, and sometimes Jinsol wakes up in Sooyoung’s arms instead of the other way around.

And maybe Jinsol doesn’t exactly mind, because Sooyoung distracts her from all the bad stuff in her head that lingers after she feeds. 

* * *

The first time is an accident, Jinsol swears. 

Late at night. Alone. Sooyoung waiting for her. 

Jinsol’s jumpy when she feeds — the thought of someone seeing her with her fangs out is terrifying. So when a bird flies into her, Jinsol startles, and her hands shot out on reflex. The next thing she knows, the bird’s lying dead at her feet. 

She just doesn’t want to waste a death, she convinces herself. 

Jinsol drops the drained body from her mouth, wiping warm, red liquid away with her wrist. Something in her body screams _WRONG_ every time she drinks from roadkill. And now the feeling’s satiated. 

The freshness is addicting.

So she does it again. 

Kills.

* * *

Sooyoung doesn’t exactly pester her, but something in her posture reminds Jinsol of Yeojin, arms crossed as if to prevent herself from leaning forward too much, seeming too eager.

“So do you eat human food?” Sooyoung asks. They’re the last ones awake again, talking in soft voices on the couch so they don’t disturb anyone, the new normal. Their friends take it in stride. “Like, I don’t really know anything about vampires other than the fact that you’re one, and you don’t like sleeping that much anymore. And also you have fangs sometimes when we’re alone, and you look freakishly hot with them, but whatever.”

“I eat human food in front of you guys? You literally saw me eat a burger two hours ago,” Jinsol says, confused, and then her brain catches up. “Wait, hot?”

And then the next day— “So do you actually have superpowers? Can you pick me up?”

(Jinsol tries. She can. Sooyoung weighs nothing in her arms, a shocked laugh bursting out of her lips when Jinsol spins the two of them around.)

And the next. 

“Okay, but who smells better— Chaewon, or Hyejoo?”

“That’s one of the creepiest things you’ve ever asked me,” Jinsol mutters. “ _I_ _ncluding_ telling me to guess if you were on your period or not.” 

Sooyoung clasps her hands together and rests her head on them, looking up at Jinsol patiently. “Well?”

“Chaewon…” Jinsol says, hesitantly. “She doesn’t smell like a baby.”

And the next.

* * *

Jinsol wonders if the rest of LOONA ever regret choosing Haseul as their leader. 

_Team activities._

The word makes Jinsol shudder. 

As a part of Haseul’s three-page doctrine on how to strengthen their friendship, or as Yeojin lovingly nicknames it, “please, no more rounds of drunken truth or dare, I can’t even _drink_ legally here”, they have movie nights in 1/3's room. 

Sooyoung’s sprawled out on Hyunjin’s bed when Jinsol goes in. She perks up when she sees Jinsol, making an excited little noise that Jinsol _thinks_ is a greeting but isn’t exactly sure about. She plops down on top of Sooyoung, right where her back dips into the mattress. 

“You’re squishing me,” says Sooyoung, “to death. I’m dying.”

Jinsol hugs her knees to her chest so her full weight is on Sooyoung. Sooyoung grunts, then reaches up and pokes Jinsol in the side. Jinsol twitches.

“You’re ticklish?” asks Sooyoung, mischief spreading over her face. 

Jinsol glares at her. “No—”

Sooyoung smirks. She raises herself up with an arm and suddenly lurches herself up, so Jinsol’s flung off. 

“Don’t— you dare—” squeaks Jinsol, diving over to the other side of the bed and curling into a ball, shielding herself from Sooyoung’s merciless fingers. Sooyoung wrestles Jinsol’s arms away from her and straddles her, pinning her arms above her head and Jinsol can’t do anything but stare up at Sooyoung. 

She could flip them back over, easily. And for some reason, Jinsol doesn’t want to. Something inside her wrings painfully when she thinks about moving away from Sooyoung — when had her friendship with Sooyoung grown into something so fragile, so precious?

 _Must be all the cuddling_ , she thinks. She’s gotten so used to Sooyoung’s presence beside her.

“You lose,” Sooyoung says, cheeks flushed and eyes gleaming with delight.

The ends of her hair tickle Jinsol’s nose. “You caught me,” she says, and then catches Haseul’s curious gaze on them. Jinsol flushes and sits back up, pulling Sooyoung up along with her. 

* * *

So Jinsol doesn’t like movie nights that much, she’s made it clear. She’s seen Jurassic Park too many times (her brothers are obsessed with the movie and Jinsol can recite half of it by now). Every time she’s forced to look at the stupid face of Jeff Goldblum, she loses a little bit more of her sanity, not that she had anything against him. Just — movies, in general. Mostly Jurassic Park.

It surprises no one that Jinsol escapes to the sole bathroom on the bus, half an hour into the movie, washing and rewashing her hands so she doesn’t have to go back so soon. The soap is kind of nice — thankfully not floral, Jinsol hates how sharp it smells to her. 

She hears the door of the bathroom open, and a moment later, Haseul’s shuffling her feet in the doorway uncomfortably.

Jinsol looks up. Their eyes meet in the bathroom mirror. 

Haseul’s an open book, Jinsol thinks. All her thoughts flickering across her face, as easy to read as Choerry’s notes in her meticulous handwriting. And Haseul looks like she’s about to burst at the seams, something on the tip of her tongue that she doesn’t quite dare say for fear of breaching boundaries. 

Haseul has always been soft-spoken. 

Jinsol sighs, says “hey”, dries her hands on her jeans. “You good?”

“You and Sooyoung,” Haseul states. Jinsol’s only seen this expression on her once before, when Yeojin was failing school and Haseul had to break the news to her that she couldn’t be a part of 1/3 anymore. She wonders when, exactly, she started comparing herself to Haseul’s adopted children. Haseul’s literally her age, and seems like she has her shit together if you don’t look too hard, and Jinsol’s just— Jinsol. 

Somehow, she doesn’t think she’s going to like whatever Haseul’s going to say.

“You guys are getting pretty close, huh?”

Huh. Not that bad.

Jinsol puffs her cheeks out, thinking hard. “I guess so? She’s fun to be with.” 

Haseul gives her a searching look that Jinsol doesn’t quite understand. 

“You know,” she begins, “whatever you guys do, we’ll be okay with it, right? I can promise that you can’t lose me, at least. I’ll be behind you as long as you’re sure that you’re happy.” 

“T—thanks?” Jinsol says hesitantly. She’s not quite sure what Haseul means. “I'm happy?” 

Haseul nods understandingly, further confusing Jinsol. “Be safe, okay? The media can be cruel but don’t let that interfere with your personal life.” 

The idol life.

Haseul’s right about whatever she’s talking about, even if Jinsol’s not sure where the sudden sentimentality stems from. 

“Alright,” Jinsol agrees. She sees her own reflection in the mirror, wide-eyed and looking suspiciously like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Uh—“ 

“Okay, good luck, Jinsol!” Haseul cuts in, the sudden firmness in her voice making it clear that whatever that was all about, it was between them and them only. Jinsol backs away slowly, and tacks on a hurried “bye!” before she scurries back to the bedroom.

She pushes Haseul’s weird demeanor to the back of her mind. Jinsol _knows_ Sooyoung’s going to claim Jinsol’s seat as her own if she doesn’t go back fast enough. 

* * *

Jungeun trips. 

When she gets up, too slowly to be fine, there’s a collective shocked gasp from the fans in the front-row. Hyunjin’s already rushing to her, the closest, and she holds Jungeun steady as Jungeun lifts a hand to her face and touches her nose gingerly. 

Jinsol smells the first trickle of blood before she sees it. 

Jinsol has a sudden flashback to when Sooyoung fell on stage, ages ago. She doesn’t remember feeling like this back then. Not cold, panicked, ravenous; she can’t focus on anything but Jungeun’s pale face, and suddenly she’s listening to her own shallow, harboured breaths, in time to the beat of Jungeun’s heart.

Sooyoung grabs her by the shoulders and spins her away from Jungeun. 

Jinsol hisses at her. Sooyoung pinches Jinsol’s arm with all her strength, shocking Jinsol enough to pull her out of her stupor. It is only then that Jinsol realises she’s ice-cold and digging her nails into her palms. 

“Control yourself,” Sooyoung hisses, covering her mic. “Your eyes, they—” she starts to say, but then darts a quick look behind her and purses her lips shut.

Jinsol still itches to tear herself away from Sooyoung. All her attention is on Jungeun and not enough is focused on keeping herself away from her. Somehow, Sooyoung must have known, because suddenly, she’s forcibly pulling Jinsol into a hug, so Jinsol can’t smell anything but Sooyoung, warm and comforting like a blanket draped over her, blocking the scent of Jungeun. 

Jinsol reaches for that safety. She buries her head into the crook of Sooyoung’s neck and nuzzles into her.

“—they’re slits,” Sooyoung finishes, weakly. 

They stay like that for a moment, Jinsol safe in Sooyoung’s bubble. 

Yeojin’s pattering footsteps sound behind Sooyoung. Jinsol springs away from Sooyoung; she’s almost forgotten where they were until Yeojin reminded her. She rubs the back of her neck, a little embarrassed. 

“Are you afraid of blood, unnie?” Yeojin says, bright and too, too loud, “don’t worry, I-”

Yeojin’s voice trails off. 

Jinsol looks up, confused, and catches the remainder of the harsh glare Sooyoung throws at Yeojin. Jinsol rubs Sooyoung’s elbow gently as an _it’s okay_ , and Sooyoung softens. 

“It’s alright, Yeojinnie,” Jinsol says. “I’m okay.”

The rest of the stage is a blur, they’re on a bus and then she’s running. 

Haseul’s voice cuts through the sunken evening air. “Hang on, eleven?” 

“Who’s missing?” Choerry chimes in, right as Hyejoo says, “Where’s Jinsol?”

The voices start, first with Heejin and Hyunjin turning to each other, then slowly like a crescendo, and Sooyoung wants to clamp her hands over her ears so she can fight the panic that’s threatening to spill out of her throat as a whimper. A yell. Anything, as a release. 

“I thought Jinsol was with you?” Jiwoo says, turning to Sooyoung helplessly. “She was there when we got off the bus. Didn’t you go to the bathroom with her, Sooyoungie?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t—“ Sooyoung says; then spots Jungeun out of the corner of her eye, nose swollen. 

_Oh_.

She steps forward. “I’ll go back and grab her, she might have gotten lost?”

Haseul takes one look at her, at their tired, ragged group, sighs. “Go find her, Sooyoung. We’ll be fine.” 

The wind whistles. 

Jinsol still crouched on the ground, drinking greedily.

A twig snaps.

“Thank god.”

Jinsol whips her head around. The harsh glare of the streetlights blind her, but she sees the shadowy figure approaching her and Jinsol knows that her only two options are to run or fight.

“Here you are.”

Something smells familiar.

There’s only a long, lonely stretch of road beside her, winding its way past the figure. Jinsol came here instinctively because she didn’t think anyone would come to an abandoned town in the middle of nowhere, but right now, Jinsol can’t hide. 

So she chooses the latter. She lifts her head and _snarls_ at the intruder, baring her fangs, blood dripping down her chin.

“Jesus,” the voice comes again. The figure moves under the streetlight, and the yellow light finally illuminates their features. Dark hair, perfect lips, eyes that roam Jinsol’s face. “I didn’t think this would happen.” 

_Sooyoung_. 

Jinsol closes her mouth abruptly. It tastes like copper and she’s still so, so hungry; but she forces herself to relax. 

“I could have hurt you,” she begins, fists clenched tightly, “why are y—”

“—are you okay?” Sooyoung says. She crouches down beside Jinsol and presses a hand to Jinsol’s chest. “Why do you look so pale?” 

“Fine,” Jinsol mutters. She clamps a hand on Sooyoung’s wrist and tries to shove her away — too little effort, and Sooyoung doesn’t even budge. Jinsol’s strength fluctuates, depending on how often she feeds. It gets kind of inconvenient sometimes. She almost broke Yeojin’s arm by wrestling her last week, so she’s been erring on the side of caution lately, but right now, it’s just Sooyoung. Jinsol pushes again, harder, and this time, Sooyoung topples over onto the mud. 

The girl looks stunned. Jinsol feels a little guilty, so she crawls over to Sooyoung and offers her a hand.

“I didn’t—” Sooyoung says, swallows, “—expect you to be like— _this_.” 

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Jinsol says. “No one’s supposed to. How—”

Sooyoung turns around helplessly, and that’s when Jinsol sees the trail of dead animals she’s left behind. The itch starts to crawl again, burning under her skin and Jinsol still hungers. 

“Can’t you see?” Jinsol says, each word a relief, because they drip honest from her lips. She’s been thinking it. And she knows that Sooyoung’s probably thinking it too, however much she tries to hide it under a mask of helpfulness. 

“I’m a monster.” 

She looks pointedly at Sooyoung, who’s still sat heavily in the mud from when Jinsol pushed her. 

“I don’t mind, you know,” Sooyoung says, all of a sudden, “seeing you like this. I don’t— you’re still Jinsol, to me. Nothing’s changed.”

Jinsol laughs, but it comes out bitter. “Are you the freak, or me?” 

She regrets it as soon as the words slip out of her mouth. 

Sooyoung looks unperturbed. Jinsol wonders how that works, why Sooyoung would trek this far to find her and let Jinsol push her around, how she can sit here, talking to Jinsol who has blood on her hands (and around her mouth, quite literally) without wanting to run away. 

“Listen to me,” Sooyoung says, and Jinsol does. “I said I was on your side. I’m giving you the chance to tell me what’s wrong.”

Even with no one around, the two of them are still talking so low Jinsol can frame the moment as whispering if she wanted to. Sooyoung stretches out to rest a hand on Jinsol’s knee, but she still doesn’t get up — instead, her body’s completely turned towards Jinsol, eyes rapt and focused on her. 

“I—” says Jinsol. The excuses pile up in her mind. But then she meets Sooyoung’s dark eyes, and what comes out of Jinsol’s mouth instead, is a confession. “It’s not enough.”

“What isn’t?”

Jinsol curls her fingers into her palm and squeezes. From the way Sooyoung’s fingers twitch, she knows that the other girl felt her muscles clench, felt the tension run through her like the thrum of a thrill. 

“Animal blood,” she says. “It’s not enough. I’m so hungry.”

Sooyoung seems to pause, and then she’s dragging her gaze over Jinsol, low and heavy in the dark.

“Maybe,” she’s saying, and maybe Jinsol is a little distracted by how husky her voice is, “you should—” 

And then Sooyoung’s offering her arm to Jinsol, hovering it inches below Jinsol’s nose. 

“What?” Jinsol blinks, looking down and then back at Sooyoung. 

The girl in question shrugs. “You need human blood, right? I should’ve known, you were looking worse these few weeks. Gone for longer. I should have noticed that you were still hungry.” 

The more Jinsol’s body screams _YES_ , the stronger her urge to flee grows; but Sooyoung’s other hand is still on her knee, pinning her to the ground. 

Jinsol steels herself. “I can’t just—”

“I said I would help you,” Sooyoung says, makes it sound so easy and simple. “Don’t make me break a promise.” 

Jinsol’s resolve is crumbling. She’s close enough to Sooyoung to catch a whiff of her smell — sweet, but not like sugar, and that freshly-clean smell of the laundromat. 

“Drink from me,” Sooyoung insists, her voice low and certain. “I trust you.” 

“But what if I can’t stop?” says Jinsol, not a question. “What if I’m too hungry, and I hurt you, or worse, kill you?” 

The thought makes something inside of Jinsol clench. She’s so tense that she bites down hard on her lip on reflex— and her hand flies to her mouth in pain. She’s forgotten that her teeth haven’t shrunk back to its normal size yet. Her mouth is full of sores because her fangs aren’t retracting like they should, lately, and maybe it’s because of how hungry she is. 

“You’re hurting yourself.”

Sooyoung’s fingers are on her, gentle, prying her hand away. 

“Please, just let me help you.” 

Jinsol doesn’t want to hurt Sooyoung. 

And Sooyoung seems to care about Jinsol more than herself, because she wordlessly offers her wrist again, and Jinsol— she doesn’t know if she wants to scare Sooyoung away from her, just enough that the other girl backs off, or simply— give in to the cravings. 

Finally, Jinsol relents, settles for a mixture of both; shifts so her mouth is next to Sooyoung’s neck. 

“Is your neck okay?” 

Jinsol can see Sooyoung gulp, and she doesn’t know why she’s surprised that Sooyoung nods.

Jinsol closes her eyes and sinks her fangs into Sooyoung’s neck — Sooyoung lets out a tiny gasp, an _“oh”_ that Jinsol can’t tell if it’s from pain or something else; but it doesn’t matter.

All she knows is ecstasy. 

Sooyoung tastes nothing like Jinsol thought she would, but it feels like Jinsol’s been eating nothing but carrots for her entire life and just tried ice cream for the first time. 

She takes a few greedy gulps, and suddenly, Sooyoung’s hand flies out and clutches at her hair.

“Jinsol—“ she rasps, and Jinsol realises that she’s been feeding for too long. Hurriedly, she lifts her head back up, swipes her tongue over the two small punctures in Sooyoung’s neck, watches them close. 

“Are you— alright?,” Jinsol asks, breathless. “I didn’t- sorry. I’m sorry.”

Sooyoung looks dazed. Jinsol reaches out a hesitant hand, traces it around the slowly-growing bruise around Sooyoung’s neck.

“Sooyoung?”

Sooyoung finally nods. It doesn’t reassure Jinsol because Sooyoung’s leaning against Jinsol, her full weight on her. “I didn’t expect it to feel that good,” she admits, rather breathlessly. “It felt like— It feels— very good.”

Sooyoung’s cheeks are tinged pink. Jinsol presses the back of her hand against Sooyoung’s forehead — she feels too hot, but again, Jinsol has been colder than her ever since she got turned. Sooyoung flushes redder, where Jinsol touches her.

“Thank you,” Jinsol says.

Sooyoung shakes her head, looks Jinsol in the eyes. “No, thank _you_. For trusting me enough to let me help you.” 

Haseul’s waiting for them when they get back. Jinsol has a hand on the small of Sooyoung’s back, propping her up, even though Sooyoung insists that she’s fine. Jinsol doesn’t quite trust her wobbly footsteps.

“Everyone else is asleep,” Haseul tells them. “I figured the two of you needed some privacy. But thank god you came back, I was getting worried because Sooyoung didn’t text me.” 

“We were—” Jinsol says, “kind of busy.”

Sooyoung’s arms slip around Jinsol’s waist and then Jinsol’s being hugged to her lean body. Haseul’s eyes slide to something behind Jinsol - she realises that the collar of Sooyoung’s shirt has fallen down to reveal the mark on her neck. Sooyoung tugs it back up quickly, not meeting Haseul’s eyes. 

“I figured,” Haseul says. “Kind of.” 

Thank fuck for Haseul’s unassuming, motherly kindness. 

Jinsol doesn’t understand why Sooyoung’s blushing, or why Haseul has that weirdly proud expression on her face. 

“Goodnight,” mutters Sooyoung. She grabs Jinsol’s hand and tugs her towards the bunk. 

Jinsol gives Haseul a tiny wave with her other hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this fic is literally my baby please treat it well thank you. it's inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/yvezoul/status/1203173999716356096?s=20)  
> i'm gonna be posting lots of loona fics from now on so if y'all are into that you can subscribe. and also feel free to pop over to my cc/twitter and talk to me!!
> 
> twitter: [yvezoul](https://twitter.com/yvezoul)  
> curiouscat: [yvezoul](https://curiouscat.me/yvezoul)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less of the vampire thing and more of something else. Spoiler alert, they're pining.

Lazy days, Jinsol decides, are her favourite. 

She’s distracted by the low murmur of Jungeun and Jiwoo’s voices from their makeshift kitchen. Jungeun is slumped against Jiwoo, who’s pouring over the map spread out on the table, sticking stars onto the places they’ve passed.

“Two months into the tour,” Jungeun groans, watching the coffee machine drip espresso into her cup with a frankly alarming amount of intensity. “It’s half gone? I don’t want to go back to Korea.”

“Half to go!” chirps Jiwoo, not looking up, and Jinsol stifles her laughter so they don’t know she’s eavesdropping. 

Even though they’ve been living together for years in their dorm, being on a tour bus feels different. And maybe it’s because Jinsol’s harbouring secrets, but it feels crowded. More intense. 

Jinsol learns more about the little quirks her friends have because she has nowhere to escape to, but it’s been long enough that everyone’s settled into a steady routine. The stability feels weird, especially considering that she’s constantly sneaking off into hidden corners with Sooyoung to feed — and saying it like that, it sends a little thrill shooting down her neck, as much as it makes her feel dirty.

“Don’t you think,” she says, turning to Sooyoung, “that it feels a little too easy?”

Sooyoung looks up from her phone and squints at her. “You’re gonna jinx it, you know.”

“I’m not ungrateful!” Jinsol clarifies, just in case any karma gods are out there, listening. She’s not really the superstitious type, but it doesn’t hurt to have them on her side. “But like, don’t you think it’s kind of weird how—” 

Someone screeches inside the master bedroom, breaking off Jinsol’s train of thought. 

(At one of their fan-meetings, they had been gifted a Switch and a couple games, the maknaes claiming it as their own pretty quickly. Jinsol was actually impressed by how well they worked together when fighting Haseul for the controls; but it’s turning out to be both a curse and a blessing. The bus is decidedly less crowded with half of her friends holed up in the bedroom all day, but Jinsol’s not quite sure that the yelling is worth it. )

Sooyoung stretches her leg out and jabs her in the thigh with a lazy toe. Jinsol glares at her. 

“How quickly what?” Sooyoung says, wiggling the toe against her.

Jinsol scoots away. “Everything’s just going so well, you know?” she says, “like, no one’s even suspicious about the whole—” she waves her hands in the air for emphasis, leaning back towards Sooyoung and lowering her voice— “ _thing_ , you know.”

Sooyoung snorts, shooting a pointed look at Jungeun and Jiwoo. “Care to be a little more inconspicuous?” 

She jabs at Jinsol’s thigh again.

Jinsol doesn’t even bother to glare at Sooyoung. Instead, she grabs Sooyoung’s ankle and _pulls_ , making Sooyoung lose her balance enough that she falls onto the floor with a heavy thud that draws the attention of everyone else in the room.

“You good, Sooyoungie?” calls Jiwoo, waving. Jungeun makes a face at Jinsol from beside her. 

Sooyoung shoots Jiwoo a quick thumbs up, and waits until she looks away to pout at Jinsol.

“You know you’re getting kind of strong, right?” Sooyoung says, rubbing her hip with a wince. She grabs Jinsol’s knee and uses it to prop herself back up, sulky pout on her lips. “That was— ow.” 

“Oops,” Jinsol says, but she pats her lap invitingly; and when she finally convinces Sooyoung to sit down, she snakes her arms around Sooyoung’s waist and kisses the top of her shoulder as an apology. 

* * *

Sooyoung tugs the collar of her shirt down, and Jinsol’s never appreciated the height difference between them until now, with Sooyoung warm and yielding under Jinsol’s wandering hands. She’s at a perfect angle to drink from Sooyoung.

“We should probably be doing this somewhere else,” whispers Sooyoung, but her body says the complete opposite. Jinsol can feel the flutter of her pulse, as quick as a hummingbird when her hands creep upwards towards Sooyoung’s neck. 

“I’ll be quick,” Jinsol promises quietly. She backs Sooyoung further against the kitchen counter until she feels her bump against the edge. She easily hoists Sooyoung up so the girl is sitting on the counter, Jinsol fitting right between her legs. “I’m not that hungry anyway.” 

Sooyoung exhales. Jinsol is close enough that she can feel the warm air ghost over her forehead. Then finally, she nods; barely noticeable. 

Jinsol squeezes the top of her thigh as a thank you. 

When Jinsol starts drinking, it’s with much more control than their first time — after all, they’ve had weeks of practice by now. Sooyoung makes a pleased little noise at the first contact, and then they lapse into a comfortable silence, the only noise in the room from Sooyoung’s shallow breathing and the occasional sound of slurping. 

Sooyoung’s fingers twitch against her. Jinsol instinctively tilts her head so that Sooyoung isn’t leaning towards her at an awkward angle; and when Jinsol sucks on the spot particularly hard, Jinsol realises that she’s been expecting Sooyoung’s sigh even before it comes. 

She’s starting to know Sooyoung’s mannerisms by heart. 

Jinsol doesn’t know why the thought sends a little wave of pleasure down her spine. 

But suddenly, Sooyoung’s pulse stutters. Jinsol reacts before she knows what she’s doing. In a split second, she’s pulling off Sooyoung with a _pop_ , retracting her fangs even though it _hurts_. She trusts her instincts when it comes to Sooyoung, it’s brought her this far.

“Jinsol!” Sooyoung hisses, a little too late and her body tenses against Jinsol’s. That’s when Jinsol hears a tiny gasp from the corridor, where the bunks are. She doesn’t need to turn around to know that someone’s seen them.

Sooyoung’s eyes scream at her, wide and panicked. 

_What the fuck are we going to do?_

_I don’t know!_ Jinsol shoots back. _It’s not like I had a backup plan or anything._

_Well, HURRY UP and think of something. Anything._

Jinsol refocuses. 

Her gaze flickers down to Sooyoung’s collarbone. The red splotch against Sooyoung’s neck — if Jinsol squints, it can be mistaken for something else, entirely. Jinsol’s hand on Sooyoung’s thigh, Sooyoung’s arms around Jinsol — the idea strikes her. 

“Do you trust me?” she whispers, moving her lips as little as she can so whoever’s watching them can’t see. 

Sooyoung’s answer comes quickly, her eyes flicking down to Jinsol’s mouth and back up. “Course.”

Jinsol breathes out. She licks the corners of her lips, catching the lingering droplets of blood there. “Okay, cool, because—” 

And she surges forward, resting one hand on Sooyoung’s chest and wrapping the other around the back of her neck, pulling Sooyoung down towards her. Her lips land on the corner of Sooyoung’s mouth, hesitant. 

“Is this okay,” Jinsol murmurs, pulling away uncertainly, “it’s your call.”

Sooyoung’s eyes are on Jinsol with a fierce intensity, as if she's burning the moment into her retinas so she doesn’t forget it; but there’s something stony in her expression that makes her unapproachable. Closed off. Jinsol shivers, unwilling to tread that thin line again without Sooyoung making the first move. 

“Sooyoung?”

Sooyoung doesn’t say anything, but she cups Jinsol’s face between her hands and tilts Jinsol’s chin up. Jinsol lets her eyes flutter close. Sooyoung closes the gap and kisses her firmly on the lips. 

This time, instead of warmth, something starts fizzing inside Jinsol. It feels like sparks — especially when Sooyoung tilts her head and deepens the kiss — and the tiny zaps of electricity makes Jinsol forget how to breathe until Sooyoung pulls away. Jinsol chases after the empty air for a second before remembering where they are.

Sooyoung’s face is as blank as a canvas.

Jinsol bites her lip, a little afraid of what she’s thinking. “Sooyoung, I—”

Behind them, someone lets out a spluttering cough. 

Jinsol spins around. Chaewon stands there looking like a deer in headlights, a hand gently rubbing Yerim’s back, who’s wheezing her lungs out.

“She choked on her own spit,” Chaewon explains, eyes wide. “Uh—” 

“Hi Jinsol!” Yerim squeaks, staring at the floor furiously, face red as a tomato. She clenches Chaewon’s hand so hard that Jinsol can see white on her knuckles. “Just— do whatever you’re doing, it’s fine! We won’t tell anyone!”

“We won’t!” Chaewon agrees quickly.

“It’s not our business, sorry,” Yerim says, nodding, still not meeting Jinsol’s eyes. She looks so painfully awkward and out of place that it feels like _she’s_ the one who got caught and not Jinsol. 

“We—” Sooyoung says, and stops. 

“Sorry?” Yerim offers. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. Um, sorry—”

“It’s— alright—” Jinsol rushes to explain, and then realises halfway through her sentence that they don’t really have any sort of explanation to give. “We, uh—”

“Are you two dating?” says Chaewon, smiling at them angelically. Jinsol swears that she’s never heard any other sentence as brilliantly show-stopping as those four words. There’s probably a halo around Chaewon’s head or something. Hell, if Jinsol ever becomes God, she’s going to make sure that a special place for Chaewon is reserved in heaven, because now Jinsol doesn’t have to say anything. 

“Yes!” she replies, a little too loudly. “I’d really appreciate it if you kept this quiet. It’s still— kind of new?”

This time, it’s Sooyoung who starts spluttering. Jinsol reaches behind her and wacks her on the back, hard, and Sooyoung makes a choking noise and goes silent. 

“We will!” Yerim exclaims. “Sorry!”

And because they have to pretend, and definitely _not_ because Jinsol wants it or anything; she slides her hand down Sooyoung’s arm and slots their fingers together. 

Somehow, as Jinsol holds Sooyoung’s hand and smiles awkwardly at Yerim, a singular thought runs through her mind. 

Sooyoung was right about the karma gods. Jinsol _did_ jinx it. 

  
  


“What the fuck,” Sooyoung whisper-shouts, as soon as they’re alone. “Jinsol, what the _fuck_ did you do?”

Jinsol rubs the bottom hem of her shirt between her fingers, apprehensive. The cotton is soft, comforting; and she doesn’t look up because she doesn’t want to see Sooyoung like that again — not hostile, exactly, but close to anger. 

“Please don’t be mad at me,” she says pleadingly. “I just— you were right there, in front of me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Sooyoung doesn’t reply. The words tumble out of Jinsol’s mouth to fill the awkward silence, spilling out too fast for her brain to catch up. 

“I just thought— maybe if we distracted them enough,” she says, before she knows what she’s doing, “like— I guess out of the two options, Chaewon and Yerim thinking that we’re— dating? I dunno. Lesbians. It’s not as bad. Oh, fuck— Sooyoung, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about the implications. I— you might be straight. You’re not, right? I’m sorry for springing it onto you like that. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that without asking.”

Something in Sooyoung’s careful expression flickers for a second, a twitch of her lips downward. Jinsol doesn’t know what it means.

“Are you sorry that you kissed me?” 

“No!” Jinsol blurts out, and the heat immediately rushes up to her cheeks when she realises how quickly she answered. Too quickly. “Sorry— I mean, I kissed you first. It’s alright that I did that, right?”

Sooyoung scrutinises her, unreadable. Jinsol doesn’t know how she thought she was finally starting to learn Sooyoung a couple minutes ago — right now, this feels like a whole different person standing in front of her. She swallows, a little uncomfortable; and Sooyoung’s eyes follow the bob of her throat. 

“I mean,” says Sooyoung, without looking away, “we probably needed an excuse at some point. It’ll explain why we’re spending so much time together, at least. We were bound to get caught at some time.”

Jinsol wonders why Sooyoung sounds so calm. It’s chilling, the way Sooyoung can mask her emotions if she wants to. And Jinsol, suddenly, feels very small and unsure, and she just wants to fill up the terse silence between them. “I’m sorry.” 

The apology lingers in the air between them. Jinsol doesn’t know what Sooyoung’s thinking. She’s not sure that she wants to. Sooyoung’s frowning, again, and Jinsol doesn’t _ever_ feel self-conscious around Sooyoung, except today is turning out to be an exception. The tension is so thick that she could probably slash it with a knife.

“Are we—“ Jinsol begins, and regrets it immediately, because it seems to snap Sooyoung out of her trance. Sooyoung leans forward, as if to reassure her, and Jinsol leans back— “are we okay?”

Sooyoung’s still so close to her that Jinsol can see the little flecks of black in her eyes. And suddenly, all she can think of is that she’s close enough to kiss Sooyoung again.

The thought is ludicrous enough that Jinsol snorts. And suddenly, the laughter surges up in her, and she’s cackling, loud and unabashed.

Jinsol has a weird coping mechanism for Sooyoung-related things.

“What-” Sooyoung mutters distractingly, half to herself, and then— “Jinsol!”

“Yes,” Jinsol wheezes, letting her head fall onto Sooyoung’s shoulder. “Sorry, I just—” she tries saying, but the words are pushed aside by her hysterical laughter. 

Sooyoung smacks the top of Jinsol’s head gently. “What do you mean by that!” she says. Jinsol searches for offence in her words, but she doesn’t find any. “Why are you laughing at me?” 

“I’m not!” Jinsol rushes out. “It’s just— it’s so weird. I mean— I’ve never thought about kissing you until today, and now we’re—”

“Never?”

Jinsol stops laughing.

Sooyoung’s looking at her again, with that weird half-hearted smile that Jinsol doesn’t understand the meaning of. Jinsol shifts uncomfortably, her eyes unconsciously flickering down to Sooyoung’s soft, nude lips. 

“Uh—“ Jinsol says, and before she can dig her own grave any deeper, Sooyoung interrupts with a gentle pinch to Jinsol’s cheek.

“What are we, then?” she says.

The question reverberates in Jinsol’s mind. Sooyoung’s been so— unpredictable, lately; Jinsol doesn’t know what Sooyoung wants to hear. She’s just trying to tread as carefully as she can. Right now, it feels like the world’s lurching under her feet, and Jinsol is just riding out Sooyoung’s volatile emotions the best she can. 

Friends? 

Friends who kissed, once? 

Jinsol doesn’t kiss people that easily. 

“Fake— girlfriends?” she answers, unsure. 

“Is that so,” Sooyoung says, not quite meeting Jinsol’s eyes, “is that what you want?”

“I mean— Chaewon and Yerim know already,” Jinsol replies, each word feeling like the wrong decision, but she’s gotten herself this far and there was no way out. “I doubt they can keep it a secret for that long, we can always just—”

“A distraction?” Sooyoung says, seemingly reading her mind. “If we ever get caught, we can just use the dating thing to distract them— that’s smart, Jinsol.” 

“Are you really okay?” Jinsol says, swallows because she feels like Sooyoung could just reach out and turn her inside out if she wanted to, that’s how vulnerable she feels. “Like, with this?”

“I’m not straight, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sooyoung replies, watching Jinsol intently, "and you— Jungeun, right? That’s why you want to hide it?”

_No._

Jinsol looks away. “Yeah.”

It hasn’t been Jungeun for a while. 

Sometimes Jinsol still catches Jungeun out of the corner of her eye when she’s asleep on Jiwoo’s shoulder, and her heart leaps a little, but it’s not overwhelming anymore. Jinsol has gotten so used to burying her feelings that she didn’t even notice that her infatuation with the younger girl had passed until Sooyoung made her think about it. 

Jinsol doesn’t bother explaining it to Sooyoung, but she is honest to herself — she’s just not ready for things to change, not yet. She likes her life right now, like the trust and familiarity between her and Sooyoung and everyone else, and if all it takes a white lie to keep it going, then there really isn’t much harm, is there? 

“Oh.” Sooyoung says, and then smiles. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You got lucky. I’m a good kisser,” she says, and then holds out her hand. “Hey there, fake girlfriend.” 

Jinsol slides her hand into Sooyoung’s, shakes her hand, once. 

“Hi there, fake girlfriend,” she repeats; and for some reason, Jinsol sort of likes the way the words sit heavy on her tongue. 

* * *

Two days after their conversation, Jinsol’s slowly realising that maybe she bit off more than she could chew with Sooyoung. 

She isn't good at acting, big deal. 

Except when Sooyoung enters the room, movie night again, Jinsol’s heart leaps into her throat. She thinks about their pact and she’s seized by a sudden bout of doubt that makes her freeze into place, paralysed. 

What if Sooyoung was just too overwhelmed in the moment to say no?

What if Sooyoung just being too nice?

Sooyoung sidles up to her, sliding her hand around Jinsol’s hip. Jinsol tenses up without realising it.

“Hey,” whispers Sooyoung.

“Hey yourself,” answers Jinsol, but it comes up strangled.

Sooyoung pauses. Then a sly look passes over her face. Her hand dips, pinching Jinsol’s butt before she can protest, and a tiny, embarrassed squeak escapes Jinsol. 

Yeojin turns around curiously. Her eyes travel to the smug grin on Sooyoung’s face and Jinsol knows that her cheeks are probably tinted pink, because she felt the flush travel up her face. Sooyoung waves at Yeojin, who mutters something about her “goddamn unnies being idiots” under her breath, but Jinsol decides not to call her out on it. 

Yeojin’s right about Sooyoung being an idiot. (Just not Jinsol.)

When Yeojin’s attention finally leaves them, Jinsol smacks Sooyoung on the arm, muttering “asshole” under her breath.

Sooyoung just leans closer. Jinsol can feel the soft press of Sooyoung’s chest against her arm and she squeezes her eyes shut, a little flustered. The last time she felt something akin to this, was when Jungeun and her had turned around at the same time on stage and almost kissed.

“You’re acting weird,” Sooyoung breathes into her ear, low and heated and Jinsol would’ve cringed away if it were anyone else. But it’s Sooyoung, she tells herself. It’s not helping. “Knock it off,” continues Sooyoung, “don’t— just don't overthink it.”

The rational part of Jinsol’s mind knows that Sooyoung is right. Skinship, fanservice, whatever people call it; they’ve always been touchy-feely with each other since they became friends. This isn’t exactly new to them. 

Jinsol doesn’t know why everything feels so changed all of a sudden. She’s the one who kissed Sooyoung and the one to suggest the whole dating thing, but now that she’s thinking of Sooyoung as maybe _not just a friend_ , everything feels different. Charged. As if their relationship was a house of cards and each time Jinsol exhales, she runs the risk of knocking it over.

What did they agree on, again, exactly? 

So Jinsol plays dumb. “Hm?” she says, tearing her eyes away from Yeojin’s hunched back, feigning oblivion.

Sooyoung holds her hand out in reply, palm up, waiting. 

She’s just acting like how they usually do. _Don’t be weird_ , Jinsol reminds herself.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Sooyoung says gently, but they both know that it’s not what she’s talking about. The air lies thick between them, full of unspoken words and Jinsol suddenly feels guilty for even doubting Sooyoung in the first place.

Sooyoung’s the perfect person to do this with, Jinsol thinks. She can’t think of anyone else that she trusts more — with keeping the whole vampire thing a secret, partly; but also to know when to blur the lines and when to step back. Sooyoung waits for Jinsol to catch up even if the others don’t, and sometimes holds her things for her, and tilts the umbrella to Jinsol’s side like they were in some kind of shitty romcom — there’s not really another person Jinsol wants to fake date, when it comes down to it.

She didn’t realise how well Sooyoung treated her until now.

If Sooyoung can do this, why can’t Jinsol? Friends do things for each other — Sooyoung’s given her so much (and Jinsol licks her lips unconsciously, thinking of the sweet, metallic taste of Sooyoung’s blood) and Jinsol wants to prove to Sooyoung that she can treat her back just as well. 

She can’t say all this in front of the others though, so she just places her hand on top of Sooyoung’s and links their fingers together. She squeezes Sooyoung’s hand and hopes that the message goes through. Sooyoung squeezes back, just as hard.

Jinsol decides, in that very moment: she’s going to dive into the role of Sooyoung’s fake girlfriend and enjoy it. 

  
  


The next time they go out, to an amusement park hidden somewhere within the depths of Florida, she’s the one to tug Sooyoung away from the others. Jinsol drags Sooyoung around the booth games and tries to win her a plushie and buys her cotton candy; and Sooyoung tastes like sugar when Jinsol drinks from her that night.

* * *

The cameras barely follow them around now — the only thing left to film are the paired interviews, and Jinsol’s left most of the talking to Sooyoung. Partly because she’s not much of a talker, but partly because she likes Sooyoung’s voice when she’s _Yves_ , careful and eloquent and low. 

As much as Jinsol dislikes sitting in a chair for hours while their makeup artist dabs makeup on her face and washing the makeup off, she has to admit that their makeup artist is _amazing_ at her job. Or maybe it was the blank canvas — Sooyoung’s cheeks are dusted pink, and there’s glitter in the corners of her eyes. Every time she blinks, Jinsol’s drawn to her eyes, and she can’t help but notice how nice Sooyoung’s eyelashes look, especially with the mascara she has on, making them long and curled. 

Jinsol wonders how she never noticed how pretty Sooyoung was until now. She _knew_ , of course — it’s just that Jinsol suddenly feels a little shy. 

Sooyoung turns to her, saying something about being grateful for their friendship. Jinsol just nods, distracted by the shimmer on Sooyoung’s eyelids.

 _Sooyoung looks very pretty_ , Jinsol thinks.

“You look very pretty,” she says.

(Just like a fake girlfriend should.)

Jinsol swears she hears their manager sigh, she can tell that Sooyoung’s gone red under all the makeup by the embarrassed scrunch of her nose, and suddenly, Jinsol wants to stay like that with Sooyoung forever. 

* * *

  
  


The tiny punctures close on their own. Jinsol watches, fascinated.

She’s careful to never drink too much from Sooyoung. She stretches it out, just enough to last her for days, but Sooyoung seems to enjoy it. Sooyoung still waits up for her when Jinsol feeds on animals. But just as often, she’s the one to lead Jinsol off the bus and pull down the collar of her shirt, even when Jinsol tells her that she’s not exactly hungry. 

“Does it hurt?” Jinsol asks, letting her hand ghost over where the mark used to be. She asks every time. Just in case.

“It—” Sooyoung starts, and then her ears turn pink. “It’s very addicting.”

“Okay, good,” says Jinsol, “just making sure.”

Sooyoung’s not that much taller than her. Jinsol blames it on their close proximity that her eyes flicker down to Sooyoung’s lips, pink and plush, of their own accord. 

Ever since she started feeding on Sooyoung, she started noticing odd little tidbits about her. The way she picks at her nails when she’s nervous and thinks no one is watching; how she squints when she laughs, and her real smile is on display. And the gentle scent of Sooyoung’s shampoo if Jinsol inches a little closer — she wants to press her nose into Sooyoung's chin, just so they can be close. 

_I’m not hungry_ , Jinsol repeats to herself, but it’s not even about that anymore. Jinsol’s almost— compelled to be near Sooyoung at all times. 

She doesn’t really think about feeding on anyone else now.

“I really like it,” Sooyoung says, so quiet that Jinsol wonders if she meant it for herself or Jinsol. Her pupils, if Jinsol pays attention, are dilated; it reminds Jinsol of when Haseul ate a brownie from a fan without knowing that it wasn’t _just_ a brownie and spent the rest of the night giggling to herself. Except now, Sooyoung isn’t laughing, and neither is Jinsol. “A little more than I should, I think,” Sooyoung continues, casual, easy, as if Jinsol hasn’t gone on a tangent in her own mind. She’s still looking down at Jinsol, the gentle curve of her neck somehow infuriating to Jinsol and endearing at the same time. She doesn’t like being reminded that she’s just the slightest shorter.

Sooyoung’s words niggle at Jinsol.

_More than I should._

She frowns.

Jinsol isn’t really certain about how the whole vampire thing works. All she has to go by is the vague memory of the movie Twilight (which she watched off some shady website, hunched over in her bedroom aged 16, and staring at Kristen Stewart more than any straight girl should). But maybe Jinsol’s been trying to ignore the uneasiness that comes, when Sooyoung’s eyes track her every move, too frequently, and often when Jinsol pretends she’s not looking, to be _just friends._ She doesn’t mind it — it’s not uncomfortable for her, it’s more like Jinsol’s hyper-aware of everything that Sooyoung does nowadays.

Something about Sooyoung’s determination to make Jinsol feed feels off, much like how much attention she’s starting to give Jinsol. How much of that is Sooyoung caring about Jinsol, and how much is— something else? ( _Like a drug_ , the voice in the back of Jinsol’s head kindly supplements, the problem hitting Jinsol right in the face. _Are you sure you’re not hurting her?_ ) 

She’s been trying to ignore this all along. 

Jinsol doesn’t want to think about it. Her head is starting to pound. 

Sooyoung, intuitive as ever, reaches out a clumsy hand and places it on the side of Jinsol’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Jinsol gazes at her gentle expression — and if Jinsol is honest, it’s one of her favourite things about Sooyoung, the way Sooyoung can turn shy and stuttery and soft in seconds if Jinsol pushes her buttons right. Strangely enough, as comforting as Jinsol usually finds it, it feels too much right now. 

It reminds Jinsol about everything she doesn’t want to go into right now.

As if Sooyoung read her mind, she asks, “are you worried about me?”

Jinsol nods. She wants to word her sentences right, to tell Sooyoung to be careful about her, but what comes out is a fumbly mess. “I think we shouldn’t— uh—”

“Shouldn’t what?”

The words die down in Jinsol’s throat. She clears her throat. “Be so close?”

Jinsol didn’t mean for it to come out like that, like a question. Sooyoung’s face closes off again, the same stoniness that Jinsol detests. 

“Not—” Jinsol tags on quickly, in an attempt to salvage the situation— “not like that! I mean— I think I’m feeding on you a little too much? I just...”

Sooyoung rubs the side of her neck uncomfortably. “I know my limits, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she says hesitantly. “You— you don’t have to stop. If you don’t want to.” 

“It can’t hurt to be careful, right?” Jinsol replies. 

* * *

Sooyoung takes Jinsol's words to heart, for some reason. She still does things with Jinsol — like right now, they're shopping with Jiwoo; but Sooyoung sticks to Jiwoo's other side so Jiwoo is a barrier between them, impeding. Jinsol doesn't know what's going on. Sooyoung isn't the type of person to take things too seriously — when Jinsol told Sooyoung to keep her distance, she didn't expect _this_ to happen. 

“You coming, Jinsol?” Jiwoo says, cocking her head to the side. Sooyoung pops her head out from behind the curtain, but she disappears back into the changing room the second she meets Jinsol’s eyes. 

Sooyoung has been avoiding her for the past few days. Everything seems normal when Sooyoung lets Jinsol feed on her, if she pretends — but otherwise, Jinsol's world feels slightly off. Distorted. As if Sooyoung is her reality, and Jinsol’s slowly losing her grip on it. Sooyoung keeping her at arm's length feels like a thorn in Jinsol's side.

She doesn’t want the distance between them. 

Jinsol doesn’t look at the swaying curtains. She swallows down the eager _yes!_ that bubbles up in her throat, when Jiwoo makes an expectant, questioning noise.

“No thanks!” Jinsol says, raising her arm. The shopping bags she’s carrying are heavy enough to leave behind red grooves. “It’s okay, I can just go back to the hotel.”

Hyunjin had talked their manager’s ear off about the lack of alone time on the bus until he got tired, and agreed to rent them hotel rooms. And then Heejin, bless her heart, chimed in and begged for single rooms until he caved. 

Thank god for small mercies. 

Jinsol thinks of Sooyoung’s closed-off face and doesn’t know how she can share a bed with her again when they get back onto the bus, without feeling like her skin is burning every time they brush against each other.

Back at the hotel, Jinsol no longer feels glad for the brief reprieve from noise. Instead, the silence seers into her, weighing heavily on her shoulders. After several minutes staring at the white ceiling, her sleep playlist playing softly in her in-ears, Jinsol gets tired of tossing around. She turns the bedside light on and scrolls through the groupchat until her thumb aches.

**yeojinnie (22:01): where r u guys? hagseul and i are next to each other but everyone else is so far**

**haseul (22:02): ?????**

**yewim (22:07): woom numbew 1020!**

**aeongie (22:07): shut up annoying orange**

Before she can change her mind, Jinsol throws the covers back. She slips her shoes back on and knocks on Yerim’s door, just a few rooms away. 

Instead of Yerim, the person that opens the door is Hyejoo. For some reason, Jinsol isn’t really surprised. From how Hyejoo squints her eyes at her, it’s obvious that she’s been here for hours already, gaming non-stop. 

“What,” Hyejoo says flatly when Jinsol’s eyes linger on her a second too long, crossing her arms. She looks almost defensive.

Jinsol scuffles her shoe right where the carpet of the hall ends, hovering uncertainly in the doorway. “Hi Hyejoo,” she says quietly, the strange mood she was in earlier finally catching up to her, “is it okay if I come in?”

“Is that Jinsol unnie?” 

Hyejoo spins around at Yerim’s bright voice. Jinsol finally spots her friend with her head in Chaewon’s lap, furiously smashing buttons on her controller. She doesn’t look up, but she lifts a leg up in the air in imitation of a wave.

“Is it okay if she comes in?” Hyejoo echoes, louder. Jinsol would’ve been offended if she didn’t know how protective Hyejoo can get over the few people she holds close. A second later, Chaewon’s voice filters through.

“She nodded!” 

Without a single word, Hyejoo steps aside. Jinsol sees the shoes flung around the room — she’s a little concerned when she sees Chaewon’s heels balanced on top of the tv, but she decides not to question it too much. After all, she’s grateful for the distraction — louder and more colourful than she thought going to Yerim’s room would be, and Jinsol loses every time she plays Mario Kart against Hyejoo, no matter how hard she tries, but it works. 

Jinsol doesn’t think about the inevitable silence when they have to get back onto the bus.

“No offense, unnie,” Chaewon says, watching Jinsol fall off Rainbow Road for the fifth time that day, “but you kind of suck.”

“It’s all the practice you guys get!” Jinsol whines, kicking unhappily at her. “I’m used to the Wii version.”

Jinsol ends up staying the night, snuggled up with Yerim on one of the twin beds. She cards her fingers through Yerim’s bleached ends, right as the girl lets out a tiny snore. 

_This is how Haseul feels when she looks after Yeojin_ , Jinsol thinks, watching Yerim bury her face deeper into her pillow.

Jinsol doesn’t spend as much time with Yerim anymore. 

Oddly enough, the thought is enough to make Jinsol remember the friendship test they did early on. She didn’t call anyone her best friend back then — maybe she would’ve said Yerim a few months ago, but not anymore. Jinsol loves Yerim, she really does, but she’s not Soo—

Jinsol stops. 

That line of thought is dangerous, a slippery slope. Instead, Jinsol forces herself to stare at the little sliver of moonlight streaming in from the curtains and listen to the gentle breaths of her friends. And maybe it’s okay that she doesn’t dote on Yerim as much, Jinsol thinks. She’s never seen the girl as laugh as loudly as she does, trapped between Hyejoo and Chaewon. 

* * *

Jinsol clenches her fists, hidden inside the sleeves of her jacket when Sooyoung starts walking to the restaurant without a look over her shoulder. (Jinsol isn't picky about Sooyoung, honestly. Any sort of attention will do.)

It’s fine. 

Jinsol can deal with this just fine. She just has to brush it off, like she can with everyone else.

Except — halfway through the meal, Heejin shows Jinsol her horrible Naruto beanie. Jinsol turns to Sooyoung to make a snarky remark, and abruptly realises that the girl isn’t sitting next to her. Confused, Jinsol scans the table for Sooyoung and finally sees her on the opposite end, as far away from Jinsol as possible; twirling her hair around a finger and laughing at Kahei. 

Jinsol scowls down at the spaghetti on her plate, appetite suddenly gone. Her carbonara has gone cold, anyway.

However far Sooyoung used to wander off, she always came back to Jinsol. Jinsol doesn’t realise how accustomed she’s grown to that until— until now.

The sudden wave of emotion that crashes down inside her isn’t something Jinsol’s familiar with. 

It’s not— anger, not exactly; but it’s enough to make something inside her writhe with discomfort because all her instincts are telling her to stomp over to Sooyoung and make her _notice_ Jinsol. Jinsol wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. She wants— she wants, that’s the best Jinsol can describe it.

There’s a bitter tang in her mouth.

She can’t really pinpoint the word for it.

Sooyoung _is_ allowed to spend time with other people, Jinsol tells herself, slightly ashamed of the way her fingers tighten around her fork. And Sooyoung still waits up for Jinsol sometimes, still grabs her hand in sight of Yerim and Chaewon and Jinsol pins the leap of her heart on the fact that she’s nervous about how the younger girls would react. To their credit, they don’t even blink. 

Jinsol isn’t a possessive person, or someone high-maintenance. But as each day passes without Sooyoung there, Jinsol feels the void where Sooyoung used to be a little more keenly.

Jinsol only has herself to blame, for asking Sooyoung for space.

* * *

Thanks to the concert earlier that day, half of them pass out by midnight. Jiwoo had decided that she wanted to stay up and forced the rest of them to join her impromptu game night. Everyone complained, of course, but it was Jiwoo. And what Jiwoo wants, Jiwoo gets. 

“Truth or dare?” Yerim asks, leaning into Hyejoo, a hand scratching at Chaewon’s scalp — so unthinkingly casual that Jinsol gets reminded of Sooyoung. Her heart pangs. 

“Truth,” Jinsol says. Her hands are cold. She slides them under her thighs, relishing in the brief rush of warmth. 

“That’s boring,” Chaewon complains, but the devilish glint in her eye tells Jinsol that she made the right decision — after all, she watched Hyejoo unflinchingly down a shot of shampoo, thanks to Chaewon. 

Jinsol shudders. 

“Favourite person in the room?” Jiwoo says, breaking out into a giant yawn that makes Jinsol want to echo the motion. The tiredness drums in Jinsol’s body. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t just go to bed.

(Sooyoung stayed up for Jiwoo, so Jinsol stayed up for Sooyoung.)

It’s embarrassing, how Jinsol is trailing after Sooyoung like a lost puppy. Jinsol doesn’t admit it out loud, but she _misses_ Sooyoung. Every time Sooyoung doesn’t make her stupid jokes, when she would have in the past, or give Jinsol the little, secretive touches only they share, Jinsol can feel the churning in her stomach.

Jinsol’s eyes trail to Jungeun’s sleeping figure on the couch, and then awkwardly past her. Sooyoung is concentrating on picking at the bottom hem of her shirt, frowning hard. Jinsol wants to rub her thumb against the scrunch of her forehead, just so that Sooyoung doesn’t get wrinkles. 

“Uh—” Jinsol starts, much too loudly, and trails off when Sooyoung looks up at the sound of her voice.

Their eyes meet. 

Suddenly, Jinsol feels microscopic and hyper-aware of every single flaw she has. It’s only Sooyoung — but it’s like Jinsol’s body doesn’t know otherwise, because she can feel the blood rushing towards her face like she’s been shoved under a spotlight. She runs a hand through her flat, stringy hair, self-conscious. 

Sooyoung isn’t watching her — she’s just gazing; neutral, passive. Jinsol would much rather be glared at by her.

 _Hi_ , Jinsol mouths.

Sooyoung shoots her an half-hearted smile. _Hey yourself_ , she mouths back, and Jinsol’s heart twists at how Sooyoung doesn’t really seem to act the same towards her anymore. She bites her lip, darts a quick look at Sooyoung and steels herself. 

_We need to talk_. 

The words repeat in Jinsol's head like a mantra. She takes in a breath, preparing to launch into her spiel — and suddenly Chaewon reaches over, interrupting. Before Jinsol can even react, Chaewon’s pinches her in the side, a nasty shock of pain that makes Jinsol jolt up.

Jinsol yelps. “Wonnie!”

Hyejoo gives her a sympathetic pat on the leg, one of the people on the receiving end of Chaewon’s torturous fingers the most. She gets it. 

“No escaping from the truths,” Chaewon says, squinting her eyes at Jinsol expectantly, “or dares. Jinsol, it’s not that hard— I mean, I know who you’re going to choose anyway.”

“...Sooyoung,” Jinsol answers reluctantly, not quite daring to look over and see the reaction of the girl in question.

“Knew it!” Yerim chirps. 

  
  


When Chaewon’s eyes start drooping, Jiwoo finally relents. Between the five of them, they manage to get Jungeun and Chaewon into bed. Jungeun doesn’t even stir when Hyejoo almost drops her.

Jinsol ends up alone in the bathroom with Sooyoung, brushing their teeth side by side. 

Sooyoung’s elbow bumps against Jinsol’s. Jinsol looks up, about to smile at Sooyoung when the girl flinches away, her reaction a second too slow. 

Jinsol looks away so the tears prickling at her eyes don’t form. Her nose is stinging, but Jinsol doesn’t really care about anything other than the silence between her and Sooyoung, heavy and demanding. 

The closer Jinsol tries to gets to Sooyoung, the further away she seems to be. Jinsol wants to reach out and bridge the gap between them again, but she can’t find the right words for it. 

Sooyoung’s watching her again and pretending not to, but her reflection gives her away. Jinsol wonders what Sooyoung’s thinking. She seems to be wondering too much about that, recently. Jinsol doesn’t know when this all started — maybe Jinsol did something wrong, she doesn’t know. 

She just wants her friend back. 

“Do you—” Jinsol says, and realises that the words came out as a garble because of all the toothpaste in her mouth. She spits. “Do you regret it?” 

Sooyoung blinks. “What?” 

Jinsol wants to cup Sooyoung’s face between her hands and squeeze her cheeks, until Sooyoung understands. She wants to go back to when everything felt like a honeymoon, tinted rose gold and without all the confusion lingering between them, about motivations and second thoughts and regrets. 

Jinsol wants. 

So she acts. 

On an impulse, Jinsol reaches out and links Sooyoung’s fingers with her own. Her hands are shaking. Sooyoung can probably feel the little tremors too, from the way she grasps back at Jinsol, loose and needy at the same time. 

The second Jinsol tries to meet Sooyoung’s eyes, the words die down in her throat. “I want us to go back to being normal,” she says, and it feels strange and full coming out of her mouth. 

Sooyoung squeezes her hand, and then lets it drop down. The gaps between Jinsol’s fingers feel so empty, all of a sudden.

“But you wanted us to pretend,” says Sooyoung.

The silence between them drags on. Out of the corner of her eye, Jinsol sees Sooyoung puff her cheeks up, a thing she does only when she’s trying to cover up something. They've known each other long enough for Jinsol to pick up on all of Sooyoung's tell-tale signs.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Jinsol admits, ducking her head, “what am I supposed to do? I’m just making it up as I go along.” A smile ghosts over Sooyoung’s lips. Jinsol twitches forward, desperate to keep it there. “Me turning into a vampire didn’t come with a guidebook, you know,” she blabbers, the words spilling over each other in their eagerness, “it could have come in handy when I thought I was just sort of horny, but turns out I just needed to drink.”

For a second, it’s like everything’s back to normal.

Sooyoung screws up her face, and seeing her like that — so casual, as if all the past weeks of tension hadn’t existed. “We have to share the same bed. I don’t want that image in my mind.”

“And you know we’re both grown women, right?” Jinsol counters, leaning forward, slipping her hand into Sooyoung’s back-pocket. She doesn’t know how far she can push it. “And we’re dating.”

“Fake dating,” Sooyoung corrects, but her eyes betrays her by falling to Jinsol’s lips. Jinsol has lip gloss on, maybe that’s why. 

At least Sooyoung is looking at her for once. Jinsol doesn’t really care how, she could be naked for all she cares, as long as Sooyoung doesn’t look like she wants to flee the room the second she notices Jinsol there. 

* * *

There’s always someone around Sooyoung. Apart from the few minutes when Jinsol feeds on Sooyoung, she barely gets to be alone with her. These days, Sooyoung seems to be seeking out Jiwoo more and more. Jinsol thought things would change after the moment in the bathroom, but apparently not. 

At least it’s not awkward between the two of them anymore. Mostly because Jinsol forces herself to talk to Sooyoung like nothing has happened, and they’re both good enough at playing pretend to have things feel normal — Jinsol counts her blessings, small as they are.

But it is at times like this that Jinsol feels like things are one sided. She desperately _wants_ to be the person that Sooyoung turns to, and she’s not. 

She’s just— one of Sooyoung’s friends. One of many. 

Jinsol sinks into her seat, crossing her arms tightly. She’s grateful for the slight comfort it gives her, even though it doesn’t feel right. 

(It’s not Sooyoung’s arms around her.)

Jiwoo laughs, loud and boisterous. Faintly, Jinsol hears Sooyoung imitate the noise, and Jiwoo whines a “Sooyoungie!” that travels through the bus. 

The sound turns Jinsol’s stomach. She ducks her head and scowls at her phone, trying her best to block out their hushed conversation, but Jinsol has forgotten that her wallpaper is a picture of her and Sooyoung. Quickly, Jinsol turns her phone off and slides it under her thigh, face-down. 

“I can’t believe Jiwoo is ignoring me, just like that.”

Jinsol looks up to see Jungeun standing above her, hands on her hips. 

The smile makes its way to Jinsol’s face by itself. She’s grateful for the interruption, because Jinsol would have spent the rest of the day wallowing if not for Jungeun.

“I can’t believe Sooyoung is ignoring me, just like that,” she parrots, ignoring the way the words makes something twist inside her.

Jungeun grunts. She snatches Jinsol’s phone out of her hands and puts it on the counter opposite them, their makeshift kitchen. Jinsol’s too lazy to get up, so she just watches as Jungeun flops down next to her.

“I’m bored,” Jungeun says. “Distract me. Say something. Anything.”

Something about this feels like high school all over again, or maybe their trainee days. Jinsol remembers sitting in a circle with other girls, giggling about boys and love and stuff— except right now, what is on Jinsol’s mind isn’t exactly a boy. 

“Um—” Jinsol says, hesitant. It feels weird, trying to do the whole girl gossip thing with someone she spent too many nights thinking about. 

“I don’t care if you sound stupid,” Jungeun reaches over and pats her knee affectionately. “I mean— you sound dumb all the time, anyway; what’s another time?”

Jinsol scrambles for a comeback, but her words fail her. Instead, she just sticks her bottom lip out at Jungeun and pouts; Jungeun _always_ falls for that. 

Right on cue, Jungeun— not quite squeals, but her voice goes all high-pitched, like she’s cooing at a puppy or something. “You’re adorable like that!” she says, reaching out and cupping Jinsol’s face with both hands. Months ago, Jinsol would have killed for this moment. She looks into Jungeun’s adoring eyes and waits for the butterflies to come, but her stomach stays strangely flutter-free. 

“You’re so cute, Soulie,” Jungeun murmurs. Lightly, she pinches Jinsol’s cheek between her finger and thumb and squishes. “I could kiss you.”

They both freeze.

Jinsol stops breathing.

“In a— friend way! Like you’d kiss a newborn baby!” Jungeun clarifies, eyes wide. “I, uh—”

They’ve never talked about this before, face-to-face. Jinsol’s used to burying her feelings for people— and being honest, for some reason, feels foreign to her. 

Jinsol doesn’t really know how to salvage the situation, but the atmosphere is slowly turning awkward, so she forces the words out, much as her heart pounds. “How—” 

“—you made it really obvious,” Jungeun answers wryly. “Jinsol, I’m sorry, I can’t like you like that.”

It’s kind of out of place, Jungeun’s words and how her face is inches away from Jinsol’s.

But the words don’t sting.

And slowly, Jinsol blinks. She’s starting to realise that she’s finally free of the weight that’s been hanging over her, ever since Jungeun strolled up to her and held her hand out to shake Jinsol’s hand, with that stupid, confident smirk on her face that makes Jinsol want to slap it off ( _you would’ve said kiss it off, a few months ago_ , her stupid mind interjects). 

Jinsol’s desperate to draw the attention away. 

“I, actually—” she says, “Jungeun.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you can kiss someone and still be friends?”

The look on Jungeun’s face makes Jinsol regret her words instantly, because it's a sudden sharp turn from sympathy to curiosity, in a way that Jinsol doesn’t exactly want to fulfil. “What? Who?” 

Jinsol can’t help but frown, but her heart pounds as she avoids Jungeun’s gaze. “I think it was just a friendly kiss.”

Jungeun snorts ludicrously. “A _friendly kiss_?” she repeats, pulling away from Jinsol. 

Jinsol sighs and lets her head drop onto Jungeun’s shoulder. “It’s—” she says, “It’s a girl thing? Friends can kiss, right? Without it meaning anything?”

Jungeun seems to sense her hesitation, because she cups Jinsol’s chin with one hand, lifting her head back up. “Do you want it to mean something?” 

“I don’t know,” Jinsol admits.

Jungeun’s expression morphs to one of concern. “Do you like her?”

“Course I do,” answers Jinsol, the words coming to her as easy as reciting the lyrics of her favourite song, “she’s my best friend.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Jungeun says. “Do you— love her?” 

_Love_. 

Jinsol’s first thought when she thinks about the word would’ve been Sooyoung, even if Jungeun wasn’t asking Jinsol about her. 

“Who is it?” Jungeun pushes, “It’s someone I know, right?”

Jinsol looks down, biting her lip, twisting her fingers together, just enough so they hurt. Jinsol opens her mouth to deny it, but then all of a sudden, Jiwoo shrieks a “don’t tickle me!” from the other side of the bus. 

Without meaning to, Jinsol’s jaw clenches. 

“You know,” Jungeun says, her eyes so careful that Jinsol feels a little pang of irritation at how everyone seems to be treating her with kid gloves these days. “It’s okay to be jealous. You and Sooyoung?”

_What?_

Jinsol’s mind is whirling. 

Jealous?

“Of Sooyoung?” she asks dumbly.

Jungeun gives her a look that makes Jinsol feel like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Of the people _around_ her, Soulie. Like Jiwoo.”

 _Jiwoo_.

Jiwoo’s close to everyone else, but why does Jinsol only mind when she gets too close to Sooyoung? Why does Jinsol want the certainty of knowing Sooyoung puts her first, when Jinsol has other friends that treat her just as well? Jinsol thinks back on the bitterness that seeps through her whenever Sooyoung’s attention leaves her, and— 

She’s jealous. All along, she’s been jealous. 

That’s the word for how she’s been feeling, the toe-curling pangs that flare up inside her whenever Sooyoung doesn’t pick Jinsol when she could have. She wants to be Sooyoung’s best friend, just like how Sooyoung is _her_ best friend. 

Jinsol doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but it does. “I’m jealous?”

“Are you in love with her?” Jungeun asks, gently this time, but the words send pure, unadulterated fear down Jinsol’s veins.

Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot. It doesn’t spin, but Jinsol feels woozy. She can barely hear anything over the roar of blood in her ears, wild and unthinking, the adrenaline making her hands shake.

Oh. 

_Oh._

Jinsol doesn’t know how she didn’t notice this before. 

Maybe because she’s always been kind of slow — Jinsol likes to play it off, but she isn’t exactly the most observant person ever. But she should have noticed the signs there, hidden, all along — if not from the way Jinsol feels like she’s burning when Sooyoung’s hands are on her, then Jinsol should’ve known from how much time she spends trying to decipher Sooyoung for ulterior motives. 

Jungeun’s words loop around Jinsol’s head — _Sooyoung_ and _love_ and _Sooyoung_ and suddenly, all Jinsol can think about is Sooyoung. Her gentle eyes when she looks at Jinsol, even though she doesn’t really seem to these days. The taste of her on Jinsol’s tongue. Her soft, big hands on Jinsol’s hips, her first love smile; her soft, deliciously kissable lips that makes Jinsol feel all warm and cold and like a supernova is exploding inside her, when Jinsol pushed Sooyoung against the counter and kissed her that day.

Her selflessness when it comes to Jinsol, over and over.

And Jinsol _misses_ Sooyoung so much that it hurts. 

Jinsol wants to sob.

Jungeun must have known, because her arms wrap around Jinsol, pulling her into a hug that Jinsol resists at first, but sinks into after a moment. 

“Hey,” Jungeun murmurs, running her fingers through Jinsol’s ashy hair, voice soft and comforting, “I’m not going to tell anyone. Hey, Jinsol, it’s okay; I’m sorry I asked. It’s not my business.”

“Jungeun,” says Jinsol, her voice small and pitiful. “I miss Sooyoung.”

“It’s okay,” Jungeun answers, hugging her tighter, and Jinsol’s thankful that she doesn’t push for answers anymore, “we’ll figure it out.”

* * *

The first and only time Jinsol ran track, the girl next to her fell down two seconds into the race, scraping her knee. Somehow, Jinsol still ended up being slower than her. The humiliation had stung that day — and Jinsol ended up mastering the art of faking sick, just to avoid P.E.. 

So no, Jinsol doesn’t consider herself sporty or anything. But running away from her problems, especially ones that involve Sooyoung? Jinsol is an expert at that, by now. 

Along the way, she’s learnt all the steps of this elaborate dance with Sooyoung — somehow, they never seem to end up talking about what’s important, because they’re both amazing at side-stepping topics. 

Jinsol wishes she can go back to being oblivious about how she’s feeling, because it is nearing _painful_ at this point. Jinsol wakes up next to Sooyoung, she spends her days trying to get Sooyoung’s attention, spends her nights dreaming about Sooyoung; and occasionally, she gets Sooyoung to herself for a few minutes, with the sweet, coppery taste of her blood accompanying their time together. Jinsol finds herself making excuses to feed, just so she can have Sooyoung for a few moments more. 

(She’s careful, of course, she doesn’t really drink that much. The last thing she wants to do is to hurt Sooyoung.)

Sooyoung turns away from her again, and Jinsol stares at the back of her head. She can’t tear her eyes away from the way Sooyoung’s hair flows down her back like a waterfall — so elegant, that it hurts. 

Of course Sooyoung doesn’t love her back. Jinsol doesn’t deserve someone as perfect as her.

Jinsol sighs.

Jungeun leans over, poking at her with a single fry. “Stop that,” she whispers, darting a glance at the others. No one pays them any attention. “You sound lovesick.”

 _I am_ , Jinsol thinks. _I am_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh. did anyone notice that it says "3 chapters" now instead of 2 chapters in the fic description?
> 
> guess what!!!! this fic turned into a chunky monster by accident!!!! and now after part one: the vampireing and part two: the dumbassery, there's going to be part three: the pining. look forward to that. 
> 
> special shoutout to ana (@yyxysoul) and solsie (@prodseul) for betaing the last two chapters!! and also a Big™ thank you to anyone who's ever left a comment on here or on cc, you guys kept me going and now i'm legally required to write More loona fics after new days is done. look forward to a predebut angsty chuuves fic and a lipsoul spinoff of that and also a lipves uni friends/enemies w/ benefits to lovers au. 
> 
> oops. spoilers. leave a comment or something if you liked the chapter kudos yada yada you know the drill <3
> 
> see y'all on twitter. 
> 
> twitter: [yvezoul](https://twitter.com/yvezoul)  
> curiouscat: [yvezoul](https://curiouscat.me/yvezoul)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this has been a PSA to please communicate with people

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to bring this up earlier but the tour bus is based off the one in [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0LnS6zfV9Y)  
> 

“I don’t _want_ to go help you look for a new shirt!” Yeojin’s protests fade off into the distance as she follows Haseul off the bus, dragging her feet. 

“I’m a growing kid!” Haseul replies. Jinsol can pick out Yeojin’s scoff even from far away, and she doesn’t have to be there to know that Haseul is rolling her eyes back at her. 

Some things stay the same, even after all this time. Jinsol smiles to herself, fond. 

It doesn’t take long for the bus to go quiet. After all, everyone is just as eager to stretch their legs and have some free time. Personally, Jinsol can’t wait to take a shower without any interruptions. 

Except, all of a sudden — there’s the unmistakable patter of footsteps coming towards her. If this is Hyunjin trying to make her get off the bus again, Jinsol swears she’ll— 

“You coming?”

It isn’t Hyunjin.

Her eyes dart over of their own accord at the familiar voice, self-inflicted torture. 

Sooyoung is leaning next to the door, arms crossed. But she isn’t looking at Jinsol — she’s just waiting for Jiwoo to slip her shoes on. 

Jinsol’s heart pangs.

She should be turning away and minding her own business. But Sooyoung hunches into herself, and Jinsol can’t tear her eyes away from how frail and tired she looks right now. Jinsol can’t even _do_ anything. She’s just sitting there, entirely useless because stupid, stubborn Sooyoung won’t let her close enough for her to do anything. Quite literally. 

The careful distance between them is always there.

They barely even talk anymore. Jinsol has to survive off rare moments of closeness — when she pulls away from Sooyoung’s neck and smooths a hand over the spot where her lips were moments ago; or at night when Sooyoung lets Jinsol hold her. 

(Jinsol had tried to nudge their friendship into something warmer, sweeter once. And Sooyoung’s face had closed off, so Jinsol withdrew — she’s afraid. 

Of losing Sooyoung? Of pushing too hard? 

The one thing she knows for certain is that she never wants to prey on Sooyoung.)

Jinsol doesn’t know where she stands with Sooyoung anymore. Everything is just too absurdly complicated. She doesn’t know how to unravel all the unspoken tension between them — so the best Jinsol can do is to hold back the burning questions, ensuring that the tranquility between the two of them at night remains — their bed, after all, is an unspoken safe space from the strain between them that appears around other people. 

Jinsol is selfish. 

She shouldn’t be playing pretend like this with Sooyoung — if it were the other way around, Sooyoung would be digging into her business until she figures out what’s wrong. And here Jinsol is, indulging herself.

Jinsol _should_ be a better person. 

She should be getting over Sooyoung. She should put their friendship over everything else — already, some of the other girls are figuring out that something is wrong, and they can’t afford cracks in their relationship right now. Not when the whole world is scrutinising them.

Except — Jinsol can’t lose what’s left of her and Sooyoung anymore. She’s just so grateful to have little doses of Sooyoung like this, soft and pliant, that she doesn’t even question why she doesn’t feel like _something_ to Sooyoung anymore.

Maybe Sooyoung is just ashamed of her. 

“I’m coming!”

Jinsol is starting to think that she’s a masochist. Why is she sitting here, listening to Jiwoo and Sooyoung?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or something along those lines. 

Jinsol shakes her head. The loneliness is starting to get to her a little.

All she can do is yearn. 

* * *

An owl hoots, far away. The late afternoon sun is spilling in from the windows, and Jinsol is careful to stay out of its way. Something about everything feels out of place; mismatched, ominous.

She doesn’t want to be alone right now. 

Jinsol pushes the door of the bedroom open. Hyejoo is sprawled on the double bed, eyes intent on her Switch. Jinsol can feel the tension seep out of her shoulders at the familiar sight of the younger girl. 

Hyejoo is— just _there._ She doesn’t give advice, she doesn’t judge, but she listens, and there’s something kind and comforting in that. Sort of like a black hole; whatever Jinsol says to her, she trusts it’s not going to come back out. Jinsol can work with that. So she plops down beside Hyejoo and waits, watching the little figure on the screen run around, all pastel colours.

“Trouble in paradise?” Hyejoo asks, without looking up. 

Jinsol is marvelling at how deft her fingers are when the words finally sink in. “What?” 

“You’re not going off the bus with the other unnies,” Hyejoo says darkly, as if she knows something Jinsol doesn’t. Jinsol doesn’t know what to make of her cryptic words — who? About Jinsol?

She isn’t that interesting. 

“You’re not going either.”

“Yeah,” says Hyejoo, “but I don’t like going outside because we always run into people, and you love that. You like spending time with Sooyoung.”

Her words hit right where it hurts. Jinsol can’t think of an answer that won’t give everything away, so she just stays quiet, slouching.

Hyejoo sneaks a quick look at Jinsol. Then she pauses the game — and Jinsol reels a little, because Hyejoo _never_ stops a game for anyone, not even Chaewon. “You good, Jinsol?”

The self-pity must be showing on her face. 

Hyejoo scoots closer. 

Jinsol leans her head on Hyejoo’s bony shoulder. Hyejoo doesn’t drop her shoulder down like she usually does when people get too close, so Jinsol closes her eyes, grateful for the silent support.

“Your girlfriend ignoring you?” Hyejoo muses, tucking her hands comfortably under her thighs.

Jinsol jolts up in surprise. She spins to face Hyejoo. “I don’t know what you mean!” she says shrilly, before she remembers about the whole facade in front of Chaewon and Yerim and mentally thwacks herself on the forehead. But there’s no real issue, because Hyejoo is already nodding to herself, pleased.

“So I’m right? You and Sooyoung, huh?”

 _There’s not really an us anymore._

Too mopey.

_Yes._

Too frank. Jinsol isn’t the type of person to admit to things, all brash and raw and honest; she wouldn’t be able to say this and look Hyejoo in the eye if it’s real, so she settles for something entirely different.

“Chaewon?”

Hyejoo puffs up her chest, indigent. “No! I figured it out. By myself.” She gives Jinsol a pat on the arm, and Jinsol isn’t sure if Hyejoo means it to be friendly or patronising. “You two make it pretty damn obvious with the heart eyes, you know.” 

Jinsol deflates.

Is she just transparent? Or maybe Hyejoo is observant in a way Jinsol isn’t — it would come in handy, Jinsol thinks, if she’s dealing with Sooyoung. Nothing is clear when it comes to her. Not their boundaries, not their relationship, not the future — and the last time Jinsol had felt like this was when she was a trainee and didn’t know if she would ever make something of her life. Jinsol doesn’t know what she’s doing. In hindsight, everything went wrong the second she stepped off the bus that night. 

She’s angry at herself, at Sooyoung. 

“I didn’t know that you knew.”

Hyejoo sighs. “The two of you are so confusing,” she complains, flopping sideways against Jinsol’s arm. “I talk with Chaewon and Yerim? But like, it’s not anything special — we discuss everyone else too, you know. Like that person that Haseul is texting. And denying that she’s texting.”

Jinsol has seen it too, Haseul smiling down at her phone. 

She wonders if she’s that obvious with Sooyoung — the thought of her feelings laid bare like that makes her uncomfortable. They’ve known each other for years now, but Jinsol doesn’t— she’s not entirely secure like Haseul is with other people. 

And Jinsol is a mess when it comes to Sooyoung.

“Sooyoung. Did she say something about us?

“Nah,” says Hyejoo, “I only noticed that something’s wrong, cause Sooyoung’s been chasing after you for the longest time, and then the two of you got really close for a while, but now she’s avoiding you? Are the two of you really okay?”

“I don’t know, aren’t you closer to Sooyoung than me?”

Hyejoo shoots her a look of disdain. “I don’t know,” she parrots, “you tell me.”

Jinsol wonders why Hyejoo is determined to make her talk — is it because someone asked her to? Maybe Jungeun? But no, there’s curiosity in Hyejoo’s eyes too. She gnaws on her lip, considering. 

“I won’t say anything,” Hyejoo promises, “not even Chaewon.” 

“It’s a little weird,” Jinsol admits, “I feel like— you’re more of a friend to Sooyoung than me. It feels like everyone is.”

Hyejoo shrugs. “Not when you’re hurting. You’re my friend too, you know? I make fun of Sooyoung, but I can tell when something’s wrong with her. And you.”

Something about her words feel like a backhanded compliment, but it’s not much of an open secret that with twelve people, they tend to pair up. Sooyoung is _her_ person, just like how Heejin is Hyunjin’s, and Jiwoo is Jungeun’s, and— 

It’s not the same with other people. 

Jinsol misses it when things were simple with Sooyoung. But Sooyoung seems determined to keep things between them perfunctory, and Jinsol is starting to grow a little desperate. 

“I like her so much,” she admits, rubbing at her face with a tired hand, “and I think I might’ve done something wrong.”

“Then fix it?”

Jinsol thinks about Sooyoung’s tired smile when she stays up, waiting for Jinsol. She thinks about Sooyoung’s deliciously pink lips, recalls the feeling of them against her own and how the way it felt when Sooyoung had belonged to her, for a split second.

And Jinsol had to go and mess it up. She still doesn’t know what made Sooyoung go from her best friend to something less soft, less sweet; but it _has_ to be something that Jinsol did. Or said. 

“I don’t think she likes me very much right now.”

“Try,” Hyejoo answers. She pulls back and places her hands on Jinsol’s shoulders so there’s nowhere for Jinsol to look but her. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Hyejoo is scary when she’s serious. Jinsol tries to turn away, but her grip is too strong. There’s a moment where they have a mini stare-off — but finally, Jinsol gives in. She nods.

Hyejoo nods back at her, an unspoken show of solidarity, then she lets go. Jinsol rubs at her shoulders and complains a little, just for the sake of it.

“You deserve it,” Hyejoo says, turning her Switch back on, “I’m a little offended that you told Chaewon and Yerim but not me. I thought the three of us were a package deal.” 

* * *

Jinsol _does_ keep Hyejoo’s words in mind — except it’s a little harder to _do_ things than to promise that you’ll do them. 

Sooyoung’s right here next to her. She isn’t paying attention to Jinsol, but they’re close enough that Jinsol would’ve caught the hint of her shampoo even without her sharper senses. 

It’s easier like this.

Pretending in front of other people — that’s the one thing that Jinsol is completely in sync with Sooyoung with. Jinsol lives for the times like these, little pieces of normalcy scattered throughout their routine. Hours of shows and practice and meeting strangers who talk to the group like they’ve known each other for years. On the road, one day blurs into the next, but this? The way Sooyoung lets Jinsol tuck herself small against her side? It is something to be savoured, as long as Jinsol forgets that Sooyoung isn’t actually hers to hold close. 

“Ya, Jinsol!” 

Sooyoung doesn’t even flinch at the interruption. Her hand continues to rub circles into the small of Jinsol’s back, even though Jinsol jumps a little. 

Chaewon skids to a stop in front of them, eyes bright. When she notices their proximity, she does a double take; but then her tongue is peeking out between her teeth as she shoots Jinsol a grin. 

Jinsol glares back at her, a little annoyed by the interruption. Chaewon means well, she really does, except — she really has the _worst_ timing ever.

 _Not now_ , Jinsol mouths, eyes wide and pleading. But Chaewon doesn’t seem to notice (or maybe she does and doesn’t care), because she tugs at Jinsol’s arm forcefully, lurching Jinsol forward. “You _have_ to come see this!”

The side of Jinsol’s arm is cold without Sooyoung pressing into her, soft and warm and comforting. Sooyoung still doesn’t look up — does she care at all? There’s no excuse for Jinsol to settle back into their original position, not when Chaewon is waiting. 

Jinsol mourns the loss of contact. 

Chaewon bounces on the balls of her feet, her grin wide and expectant. “Hyejoo is _waiting_ ,” she insists. 

“Ugh,” Jinsol replies, dull. She doesn’t blame Chaewon — she doesn’t know anything about Jinsol’s rocky relationship with Sooyoung, and Jinsol plans to keep it that way. 

Before she leaves, Jinsol hesitates, looking back. In that exact moment, Sooyoung raises her head, and it’s almost magnetic, the way their eyes meet — like a sunflower trying its best to follow the sun. Jinsol sort of forgets the world around them exists. All she can see is the temporary warmth in Sooyoung’s eyes, and something soft and blissful blossoms inside her. 

Jinsol wants, so badly that her heart feels like it’s going to shatter into a million little pieces.

Chaewon is still there. Jinsol blames it on her that she feels a little braver than usual — that someone knows about them, that she has an excuse; but it’s a sudden bout of impulsivity that finally pushes Jinsol forward. She drops down onto her knees in front of Sooyoung. As if they’ve practiced this a million times before, Sooyoung tilts her head down, anticipating. 

She’s gorgeous even from up close. Jinsol’s heart gives a dreamy little sigh, then she’s closing the distance before she can overthink it.

Sooyoung’s lips are chapped, warm, soft. The kiss is clumsy. But at the same time, it feels right, somehow; Jinsol doesn’t even notice the butterflies in her stomach because all she can think of is how desperately Sooyoung kisses her back, like she’s suffocating and Jinsol is the last breath of air. 

And suddenly, it’s ripped away from her — Sooyoung pulls away. 

For a moment, they stare at each other, and Jinsol almost forgets about Chaewon. Sooyoung’s eyes are full of longing, her lips parted as her chest heaves up and down, and all of a sudden, Jinsol has to swallow because of how dry her throat is. 

It was meant to be something chaste and sweet, but Jinsol is so weak for all things Sooyoung. She wants to lean forward again — except, Chaewon stomps her foot impatiently, and the moment is broken. 

Jinsol has to tear her eyes away from Sooyoung. 

She forces herself to walk away normally, to pretend that she can’t feel the burn of Sooyoung’s gaze on the back of her head; but a thrill rushes through Jinsol at the memory of how sweetly Sooyoung had kissed her back, the need in the way she had leaned into Jinsol. She wants to jump up and down. She wants to rush back onto the bus and beg Sooyoung for something more. She— 

Her heart is pounding.

There’s still the phantom touch of Sooyoung on her lips. Jinsol raises her hand, touches where Sooyoung had kissed her, seconds ago, and smiles to herself.

“That’s kind of gross,” Chaewon says. She forgoes the steps and jumps straight onto the pavement, light on her feet. “It was painful for me. I was _right there_.”

Jinsol shoves at Chaewon playfully. “Shut up,” she says, pushing the moment to the back of her mind. 

  
  


**HaSoo:** we need to talk

(delivered at 17:09) 

  
  


Sooyoung is pacing the room when they come back. She spots Jinsol behind Chaewon, and before Jinsol can even react, she’s sliding her hand into Jinsol’s and telling everyone that they’re going for a walk. It’s suddenly tense. Jinsol felt like she was floating minutes ago, but now, there’s none of the earlier certainty between them. Sooyoung seems almost— angry?

“Drink,” Sooyoung orders, pulling down the collar of her shirt.

She barely reacts when Jinsol’s fangs sink into her, but the touch of Jinsol’s hands on her waist is what makes her flinch. Jinsol, a little worried, immediately pulls away, licking the last drop of blood away from her gleaming fangs. “You alright?”

Sooyoung meets her eyes for a brief moment, and then her gaze flits away like a stone being skipped. 

“No, I just—” she starts, then the words die abruptly. Jinsol tilts her head questioningly — the wrong thing to do, because Sooyoung shakes her head. “I’m okay.”

Sooyoung is in a mood again. 

Jinsol feels like everything is about to topple over — so she errs on the side of caution.

“Thanks for the—” she says, nodding towards Sooyoung’s neck. The mark is already starting to fade — it’s shallow enough that there won’t be any reminiscence of today in the morning. Jinsol can’t decide if she likes it or not. 

“No problem,” Sooyoung mutters, frowning, no waver in her voice. “Anything for you.”

Jinsol wonders how much of that sentence still rings true. Sooyoung says it like she’s trying to remind herself of something, but Jinsol _doesn’t_ feel like she’s being honest anymore.

And Jinsol wants it all back. She reaches out and wraps her fingers around Sooyoung’s wrist — loosely enough that Sooyoung can pull away if she wants to, but still tight enough for Sooyoung’s arm to grow taut between them. 

“Don’t leave,” she says.” We haven’t talked in so long.” 

Sooyoung’s bunny teeth peek out when she gnaws on her lower lip. Her eyebrows draw together, but she doesn’t leave like Jinsol thought she would.

“You—” Jinsol tries, but stutters to a stop when Sooyoung looks at her from under her eyelashes. “Uh— Sooyoung, I—”

“What?” says Sooyoung, demanding. And Jinsol doesn’t want to admit it, but her heart skips a beat at the tone of Sooyoung’s voice. 

“You look very nice today.” 

Sooyoung tears her hand away from Jinsol. “What are you doing,” she says flatly. 

It wasn’t a question, but Jinsol scrambles to come up with a response anyway. She can feel the redness creeping up her cheeks, so she does what she does best when it comes to Sooyoung — plays it off. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sooyoung frowns at her. “Don’t do this,” she utters, her voice low and urgent, “you kissed me.”

“And what about it?” 

Jinsol doesn’t mean for the words to come out so defensively. But she can’t take them back, and she can’t erase the stricken look in Sooyoung’s eyes either.

“What am I to you?” Sooyoung says, jutting her chin forward, “a goddamn experiment?”

Jinsol swallows. “Just because we’re pretending to be something we’re not, doesn’t mean that I can’t have you as a best— a friend, too.” 

Sooyoung’s lips thin into a mockery of a grin. “You think that I’d help just anyone hide this?”

She’s weaving circles around Jinsol again. 

Jinsol feels so stupid around Sooyoung. Away from her, it’s clear. Jinsol kissed Sooyoung, Sooyoung kissed her back. But now they’re in front of each other — and they’re fighting. Again.

“I want you to tell me things outright!” 

“No, you’re being selfish.”

The words ring silent between them, hanging sharp like icicles. Jinsol doesn’t say anything in defence of herself, because Sooyoung is right. 

Jinsol _is_ selfish. She wants Sooyoung to herself, she wants Sooyoung’s hands in hers and she wants Sooyoung, everything that she’s willing to give. She has her friendship and her blood and the occasional touch, but it’s not enough. 

Jinsol doesn’t have Sooyoung’s heart. 

She can’t run away this time, so she bristles. 

“You offered,” says Jinsol, punctuating each of her words with anger. “I don’t know what you want. You _never_ tell me anything — how the hell, Sooyoung, am I supposed to read your mind?”

“I’m trying to not ruin what we already have!” Sooyoung answers sharply. She shoves Jinsol away from her, a sudden burst of violence that neither of them expected from the stunned silence that follows. 

“I told you I wanted us to go back to being normal.” 

The conversation in the bathroom feels so long ago — the last few days have been overshadowed by the weird tension between them. A sudden bout of fear seizes Jinsol — she can’t _not_ have Sooyoung back, she— 

“News flash, Jinsol,” Sooyoung snaps. “We’ve never _had_ a normal since this whole—” at least she’s gracious enough to look around, and lower her voice when she realises that their voices carried all the way to the bus— “this whole _tour_ started. _You_ kissed me. _You_ wanted this.”

“Well I don’t want it if you don’t! I can’t tell what you want!”

Sooyoung rakes her gaze through Jinsol, laser sharp. Jinsol can feel the goosebumps on her arms rise. “You wanted us to go back to being friends, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know!” Jinsol resists the urge to stomp her feet. She’s aware that she sounds like a petulant child right now, but she can’t really control the way her bottom lip trembles. Jinsol isn’t good at arguments. She always caves first — words don’t come sharp and easy for her like they do with people like Hyejoo or Sooyoung. “You’re just blowing hot and cold!”

“Really?” Sooyoung says, harshly. “God, you don’t even know how I feel, do you?”

“ _You_ won't tell me!”

Sooyoung shakes her head, a strange smile on her lips. “You don’t want to know.”

Jinsol hisses at her. “It’s not fair, is it. You preach all this shit about me letting you in, but you don’t do the same for me.”

Sooyoung’s nostrils flare. ”You don’t know what I’m going through.”

“Exactly,” Jinsol says, flinging Sooyoung’s words back in her face. “I don’t know. Because _you_ won’t tell me. I thought you said we were figuring this out together.” 

Jinsol still remembers how Sooyoung had looked that day, crouching in front of Jinsol in her moment of desperation. The memory is tinged golden around the edges — and Jinsol starts regretting weaponising the moment almost immediately. But there’s no reversing the moment. Jinsol clenches her hands into fists and sticks it out.

Sooyoung’s nostrils flare. Something painful flashes behind her eyes. “God, you’re an asshole, Jung Jinsol.”

Jinsol tilts her chin up determinedly, steps closer. “I just think it’s not fair!”

“You?” Sooyoung scoffs. She shoves Jinsol away again. “Talking to me about fairness? Shut up.”

She’s holding back. Jinsol has seen Sooyoung punch things, and she’s stronger than this. But Jinsol doesn’t care anymore. Her blood is boiling. All the past hurt, all the times she had to watch Sooyoung ignore her — it’s building up into one giant explosion. 

Jinsol crosses her arms, venomous, deadly; blood on her hands. 

“If we can’t get on the same page, maybe you should learn to communicate, Sooyoung. Then maybe I would care about you— and maybe I would _want_ to be around you, and you wouldn’t just be a fucking replacement for me.” 

It comes out hardened, bitter, every resentful thought Jinsol ever had about Sooyoung spilling out between them. Jinsol can see the moment the words hit Sooyoung. Her eyes widen — then Sooyoung is turning away from her, wiping at the corners of her eyes, not even trying to be discrete. 

“God, I fucking hate you.”

Jinsol’s heart clenches painfully inside. She’s breathing too fast, too shallow — but the adrenaline is rushing through her, and Jinsol wants to run away from Sooyoung. 

“I wish I never helped,” Sooyoung says, “you’re a fucking monster. Leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Jinsol says, indifferent, but deep inside, Jinsol is screaming out in pain. She wants to go back. Jinsol hates confrontations, she hates this, she hates S— 

No, she doesn’t. 

Jinsol is the one who fought back, she's the one in the wrong here. Jinsol exhales, looks at Sooyoung’s clenched fists, the thin line of her mouth, the vein threatening to pop out from her neck. 

“I’ll leave you alone then,” she says, “if that’s what you want.”

* * *

The bed is too quiet.

Jinsol had strolled back onto the bus after their argument, but Sooyoung didn’t bother with coming back. Jinsol doesn’t know what’s going to happen when they have to sleep. 

It’s nerve-wracking to sit here and wait.

She swings her legs over the side of the bed, careful not to knock into Yeojin below her, and hops down as quietly as she can. In the few steps it takes to get to the kitchen, she bumps into Haseul, hair mussed and cheeks rosy.

“Can’t sleep?” asks Haseul, breaking out into a yawn. “Can you stay up to wait for Sooyoung? Jiwoo went to find her.”

Jinsol’s heart drops. Haseul’s gaze is soft and unassuming though, so Jinsol doesn’t think she knows — if it were anyone else, Jinsol wouldn’t be nodding like she’s doing right now.

Haseul stands up on tiptoe and kisses her cheek. “Thanks,” she mumbles, and shuffles past her sleepily. Jinsol pats the spot where Haseul’s lips were a moment ago. She’s missed this kind of casual affection with her friends — she’s been so wrapped up with everything that has happened recently, that she didn’t even notice her other friendships slipping.

The moment doesn’t last though.

Too soon, Jinsol picks up on the sound of footsteps coming towards the bus. She sprawls out on the couch quickly, scrolling through her phone just so she looks busy when Sooyoung comes back. 

Jinsol isn’t _that_ desperate to make up with her — she’s still angry. A little ashamed, but still irate.

When the door is pushed open though, Jiwoo has her hand in Sooyoung’s. And the sight stirs up something green and ugly inside Jinsol. 

“Where were you?” she asks, standing up.

Sooyoung scoffs, barely even looking at her. “Out.”

Jiwoo looks between the two of them. “Maybe I should—” she says softly, hand lingering on Sooyoung’s arm for a second too long, and the words trail off into nothing. 

Sooyoung curves down and smiles at her, a protective shield around Jiwoo. “Goodnight, then. Sleep well.”

And then there were two.

The tension in the air is so thick that Jinsol barely remembers to breathe. They stare at each other from afar, and yet Jinsol feels like Sooyoung’s presence is choking her.

“Right,” Jinsol murmurs to herself, but Sooyoung overhears. Her hands clutch at empty air, then unclench. There’s something bitter and mocking in her expression when she finally meets Jinsol’s hardened stare.

“You jealous or something?”

Jinsol purses her lips shut. Everything she’s thinking right now — it’s threatening to spill out and drown the both of them. If she opens her mouth, if she looks at Sooyoung — Jinsol doesn’t know what will happen.

“You have no right to be,” Sooyoung says, “you’re not my only friend.” She looks at Jinsol, eyes alight with something that’s more poisonous than anger. “Don’t pretend that we’re something that we’re not.” 

But Jinsol doesn’t want to— 

Sooyoung’s already stalking off to the bathroom. Jinsol watches her go, all the things left unsaid between them going stale. 

Maybe it’s for the better that she’s staying away from Sooyoung. Sooyoung doesn’t have to spend her energy on Jinsol, she’s laughing with Jiwoo around, isn’t she? 

The bathroom door locks.

Along with the sound, Jinsol locks away everything she’s ever felt for Sooyoung.

* * *

Sooyoung is _very_ angry.

This time, it’s for real, because she doesn’t stay up for Jinsol. When Jinsol climbs into bed, she can tell that Sooyoung is still awake because of her unsteady breathing, but they sleep back-to-back for the first time in months.

Even their safe haven is broken.

Jinsol is afraid. She can’t lose Sooyoung. 

But she can’t see a way out — Sooyoung had bared her heart out to her, and Jinsol had stomped on it mercilessly, not holding back. Jinsol is not too proud to beg. But she can’t see what good it would do now, when they’re in this state. (In hindsight, their fight was a long time coming. They’ve been treading the line between them for so long — they were going to reach the tipping point sooner or later.)

All Jinsol wanted was to give Sooyoung something, instead of just take. But the only thing she’s certain of right now is that Sooyoung doesn’t seem like she wants anything to do with Jinsol. 

So that’s all Jinsol can give her. 

Space. 

She won’t ask anything of Sooyoung anymore. 

And it’s hard — Jinsol has to bite the inside of her cheek and force her mind not to wander, so the bubbling jealousy inside her has enough time to taper down. The distance between them grows, each day worse than the last. 

Jinsol just has to figure out how to deal with it.

* * *

Sooyoung wields the newfound silence between them like a weapon. 

“Excuse me.” 

Sooyoung’s face is blank, passive; and her voice is carefully neutral, the words too short for Jinsol to pick out anything from them. 

The hallway is too tight for two people. Jinsol contemplates refusing to move — but then she remembers how badly Sooyoung’s hands had shook that night. She flinches away involuntarily, so hard that she almost loses her balance.

Sooyoung walks away with her head held up high. 

Jinsol watches her until the bathroom door slams shut — and then she rips her eyes away, stupid enough to ruin the best thing she had going for her.

* * *

Space.

“Where were you?”

An echo of a fortnight ago.

Jinsol runs her tongue over her fangs. She’s started hunting again, recently, because she will _not_ ask anything of Sooyoung. Not anymore. She will make it up to Sooyoung. She won’t punish her anymore for a mistake that Jinsol made. She will take everything back.

“Out.”

* * *

It’s only natural that Jungeun becomes a replacement of sorts. Sooyoung seeks out Jiwoo for comfort, Jinsol gravitates towards Jungeun. More often than not, Jinsol finds herself orbiting Jungeun after dinner. 

“Still not talking?” asks Jungeun, Jinsol wordlessly shoving away the pile of blankets on the bed to make space for herself as she flops down onto Jungeun’s lap. 

“I’d be more surprised if we did talk,” she mumbles, poking at Jungeun’s arm until she shifts over. Jungeun lies down and lets Jinsol cling to her. It doesn’t even mean anything — Jinsol is just a person who seeks pieces of comfort in ways like this. She didn’t realise how affectionate she acted with Sooyoung until it was ripped away from her violently, without warning.

Jungeun is not Sooyoung. 

Jinsol is all too aware of this. 

Jungeun doesn’t make Jinsol feel like she’s on top of the world. Jungeun doesn’t make Jinsol feel like her stomach is swooping when she smiles — but she _is_ one of the few people that doesn’t push away Jinsol when she gets needy like this. 

Jungeun is safe. 

Jinsol’s head is starting to hurt from thinking too much. The makeshift light clipped onto the side of the bunk bed doesn’t help — it shines right into her eyes, so Jinsol flings a hand over them in an effort to curb the pain. (She doesn’t know how Jungeun can stand it, honestly.) 

“Remember last year when you guys fought over the photo thing?” Jungeun hums. “You didn’t talk to her for a week. Hardcore.”

It’s easier with Jungeun because she doesn’t hold back her punches. Not in the way Sooyoung crafts her words to make people laugh — Jungeun is just blunt and honest. Jinsol doesn’t have to think about what she’s saying, doesn’t have to watch her every move.

It’s nice to spend time with a friend like this. She used to have this with Sooyoung, but— 

“You guys are so messy,” Jungeun says, shaking her head, and her eyes trail over to the open curtains. Jinsol catches a glimpse of Jiwoo wrapping herself around Sooyoung’s arm and Sooyoung grins down at Jiwoo, eyes crinkling into little half-moons. Jinsol looks away and buries herself into Jungeun’s neck — except the scene is already seared into her retinas.

Jungeun sighs. Jinsol can feel her pulse, quick and flustered. “I don’t know how you deal with it.”

* * *

She can still smell Sooyoung. 

It’s back to this again.

At least Jinsol had Sooyoung in whispers before, in the ghost of a touch. It’s worse now — it’s been days since they’ve even spoken. Jinsol doesn’t trust herself. She can’t be certain that she won’t hurt Sooyoung again. Jinsol burdens Sooyoung with a secret, then kisses her, and now they’re stuck in this horrible, horrible fight and it’s all Jinsol’s fault.

Even when Jinsol starts feeling hunger pangs again she doesn’t let herself look at Sooyoung for fear of seeing the same broken expression on her face as _that night._ If she were Sooyoung, Jinsol would want her to stay away too.

So she rides out the aftershocks alone. 

Jinsol drops the drained body of a pigeon and tries to cover it with rocks — it’s the best she can do out here, it’s just dry deserts and a long, empty stretch of road ahead. 

Sooyoung doesn’t want anything to do with her. 

And Jinsol is going to respect that.

(It’s just — going cold turkey is horrible.)

Jinsol isn’t even talking about the blood — she coped once by hunting, she can do it again — it’s that she doesn’t have Sooyoung beside her. When her hands twitch for something she doesn’t have, it’s for Sooyoung’s body wrapped around hers. It’s for Sooyoung’s parted lips centimetres away from her as she sleeps and Jinsol marvels at her beauty like a sadder version of Edward Cullen.

The worst part is the addiction. 

* * *

The pasta is missing something. Jinsol chews on her forkful of spaghetti thoughtfully.

 _Pepper_.

Jinsol narrows her eyes at the jar on the other end of the table. She opens her mouth to ask, but — it’s Sooyoung who sits there. Jinsol can’t even think about her without guilt churning in her stomach. 

She turns to Hyejoo. “Pass me the pepper.”

“Sooyoung is _right there_.” 

When Jinsol doesn’t react, Hyejoo nudges her in the shoulder. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”

“Don’t be rude,” Heejin chimes in, looking between the two of them curiously. It’s not rare that Hyejoo butts heads with someone, but usually, Jinsol keeps to herself. Her loud words draw attention. Kahei stops mid-conversation with Yeojin, and the two of them turn towards Jinsol, so synchronised that it’s almost scary.

Jinsol grimaces. “No, it’s okay, Heejin.”

Hyejoo shoots Heejin a glare, as if to say _see?_ , but then she turns her attention back onto Jinsol. “Go talk to her!” she hisses, nodding towards Sooyoung meaningfully. 

Jinsol blanches at how obvious Hyejoo is. “No, I—”

“Jinsol, I _swear to god_.” 

More of their friends are watching them now — at least Yerim has the decency to try and be discreet. Jinsol can feel the apprehension in the air — but all she can see is Sooyoung, at the other end of the table. Sooyoung, wearing the leather jacket that they share and her gaze furiously on the table and the hair falling into her eyes that Jinsol just wants to brush away.

Jinsol looks away. “It’s fine. I don’t need it.”

Hyejoo picks up Jinsol’s fork and lets it fall onto her plate with a clatter. Jinsol jumps. 

Suddenly, it’s silent. 

Jinsol hadn’t realised how loud they tend to get, until right now — everyone seems to have picked up on the tension. The atmosphere can’t be described as anything but awkward. Hyunjin was stuck in her own world with Chaewon a few moments ago, so she’s just glancing between everyone, trying to judge the situation, trepid. 

Jinsol stands up abruptly. The chair screeches backward, piercing through the otherwise silent room. 

“Bathroom,” she forces out, and rushes away, face burning.

  
  


There’s no one in there when she barges her way in, the door swinging behind her from the force. Jinsol can’t even splash her face with water — she has a full face of makeup on. Her haggard reflection is not a pretty sight: her tired eyes, the downturn of the corners of her lips. Jinsol can’t bring herself to smile at herself in the grimy mirror. The person staring back at her feels foreign and strange. 

It’s stupid to let Hyejoo get under her skin like this. 

It always comes back to Sooyoung, doesn’t it? It makes her fingers curl against her palms, and it takes everything in Jinsol to not turn around and lean forward and beg Sooyoung to forgive her. 

It hurts. 

That’s all Jinsol can say about it, the wanting and craving. As much as Jinsol wants to give Sooyoung space, there really _is_ no escape from her — Jinsol is close to Jungeun, and along with Jungeun comes Jiwoo, and like a loose thread unravelling, Sooyoung somehow ends up two steps away from her. Even if Jinsol stays curled up in their bunk bed, everything reminds her of Sooyoung. The smell. The tiny swan plushie she keeps in their bed. The all too familiar indent that Sooyoung’s body leaves when she rises. She’s always around Jinsol, like the walls pressing into her, closer and closer until Jinsol can’t breathe — she isn’t claustrophobic. But she might as well be. 

It’s not _fair_ how Sooyoung can still occupy most of Jinsol’s mind, even when she isn’t next to her. 

They’re both stubborn, that’s what they are. Sooyoung doesn’t talk to her, and Jinsol’s still too caught up in everything to grovel, and everyone else — they know too little to step in. 

The door swings open.

Hyejoo freezes when she notices Jinsol, but there’s nowhere for her to hide. The mirror already gave her away the moment she came in. (And either way, Jinsol already heard her footsteps in the hallway, back and forth before she finally came in.) Then she sighs. “Right.” 

“Right,” Jinsol repeats.

Hyejoo frowns at her. “You haven’t talked to her, have you.”

“It’s a _little_ harder than—”

“—than I think?” Hyejoo interrupts. Then Jinsol bites her lip, a little ashamed at how disappointed Hyejoo sounds, and Hyejoo eases off. “I shouldn’t have pushed you just now, I’m sorry, okay? But I just—” she breaks off her sentence, rubbing at her face in frustration. “I dunno. I see you sad, and I see her sad, and it’s weird not seeing you guys together. I just wanna help.”

“Oh, Hyejoo,” Jinsol says helplessly. 

She wasn’t even thinking about Hyejoo before she came in — not that the girl would know that. But it makes Jinsol feel even worse, to know that she and Sooyoung aren’t the only ones affected by the storm between them.

She opens her arms. Hyejoo sinks into them. 

Jinsol doesn’t know when Hyejoo grew taller than Sooyoung, but she can barely rest her head on Hyejoo’s shoulder now. Either way — the silence settles around them, and Jinsol can’t stop thinking — Sooyoung. Sooyoung, Sooyoung, _Sooyoung_.

* * *

Jinsol spends too long in the shower now — she can’t scrub herself clean enough. There’s too much blood on her hands. Jinsol can’t risk it. She can’t hurt anyone.

She really doesn’t mean to worry anyone, but— 

Jungeun, to Jinsol’s surprise, is still up when she finally steps out of the shower, steam pouring out behind her. Jinsol twists back to check her reflection in the mirror, makes sure that no tinges of red remain around her mouth before she steps out. 

“Hey.”

Jungeun yawns at her. Jinsol softens, sitting down beside her on the couch. Jungeun flops onto Jinsol with an _oof_. 

“Why aren’t you in bed, Jungie?”

Jungeun stretches out. “I wanted,” she mumbles, eyelids drooping, “to make sure you were okay.” 

Jinsol darts a quick look behind her. The curtains of her bunk are firmly drawn. And the uncomfortable pounding in her heart is back again, at the thought of having to go to sleep next to Sooyoung. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jungeun yawns again. “Cause you— Sooyoung— sleep?” 

Jinsol startles. She doesn’t even know how Jungeun noticed. She’s usually asleep by the time Jinsol comes back; but again, these days, Jinsol is pale enough for her foundation to actually match her skin, let alone for her dark circles not to be obvious. 

“You know?” 

Jungeun shakes her head. “I’m your friend, Jinsol. Plus— everyone’s been sort of worried, you know? We notice things. Even Sooyoung— she’s been talking to Jiwoo, and you know how Jiwoo and I are.”

“What’s she—” Jinsol starts, swallowing uncomfortably; then she realises that she doesn’t want to know the answer. She doesn’t want to know how much Sooyoung hates her. 

Jungeun looks behind Jinsol. There’s no one else here, just the two of them and all the lights in the corridor dimmed. 

“Hey, are you sure? I can ask Jiwoo to swap beds with you if you want,” Jungeun says, then lowers her voice, “You’re looking like a zombie. I don’t want you to avoid Sooyoung forever either, but if that’s what it takes for you to be able to sleep—” 

“I’ll be fine,” Jinsol says. The words taste like a lie inside her mouth. 

“Will you?” asks Jungeun. She gives Jinsol a glance that reeks of pity, then she’s saying “I’m here for you, okay?”, and Jinsol’s nodding without thinking. 

* * *

Jinsol tells herself that she’s going to talk to Sooyoung in three days. 

Three days turn into five, and then it’s a week, and then Jinsol realises with a start that their tour is nearly over. Just three more shows left, and it’s over. The dressing room is loud, crowded, and Hyunjin has her arm around Jinsol and is forcing her to listen to her story about the stray dog she met the other day. It’s a good distraction.

Sooyoung still isn’t talking to her.

Jinsol doesn’t blame her. But she can’t understand how Sooyoung can just — kiss her back, without feelings. 

Jinsol knows how much of a hypocrite she’s being. And she hates herself every growing moment for it — if only she could turn back time, if only she didn’t get off that stupid bus and go on that stupid walk and hid it better so Sooyoung didn’t find out.

She darts a quick look at Sooyoung. If only things were different.

Hyunjin throws her a pitying look.

By now, it’s clear that everyone knows that something is wrong. Jinsol caught Chaewon and Yerim whispering amongst themselves, a few days ago — and she could have listened in on their conversation, but she hears Yerim whisper _Sooyoung unnie_ and something venomous had oozed out of Jinsol and taken over her. 

Jinsol glowers at the floor and turns away.

  
  


Everything feels greyed out.

Jinsol laughs on stage, she weaves around everyone like nothing has happened — but on the way back to the bus, she puts in her earbuds and plays music so loud that her ears ring afterwards, but it’s better than sitting through the suffocating silence. It’s better than hearing the thrum of her own hunger rushing through her body whenever she sees Sooyoung.

Jinsol can’t think of anything else to do. Their conversation loops around in her mind, over and over. 

_“God, I fucking hate you.”_

It’s driving her mad.

Jinsol can see Hyejoo giving her little side glances when she thinks that Jinsol is turned away. But sorry as Jinsol is, she doesn’t know what to do but hide. She can’t even confide in anyone — not Hyejoo, not Jungeun, because she can’t think of a way to ask for help without everything spilling out — and the last time someone learned about her being a blood-sucking monster, it ruined the best thing in her life.

Jinsol wishes that she never drank from Sooyoung.

Her hands are shaking from the withdrawal. Every time the car jolts, Jinsol feels a rush of want go through her, and she has to squeeze her eyes tight and listen to the sounds outside of the bus. 

Think about something else. Anything. 

Anything but Sooyoung.

Her body aches from self-control. 

  
  


Sooyoung is looking at her again, not even bothering to hide the wistfulness in her posture.

Jinsol wishes she wasn’t, because her head is spinning. It only started happening recently — she stands up, she gets woozy, and Jinsol has to hold onto something until it passes. Sometimes her stomach turns, but there’s nothing to heave up.

Jinsol feels sick. The itch under her skin is starting to crawl again.

All Jinsol can do is hold on. Withdraw from reality, and spend every ounce of her energy keeping everything at bay. She prays that it’s enough. She prays that they’re going to be back on the bus soon, then she can take a walk and feed, staunch the craving that’s back again, stronger than ever.

She can’t push Sooyoung again, one thing’s for certain. She did, and it broke them, and she can’t deal with the consequences if she hurts Sooyoung and loses her for real.

Jinsol hates herself. 

The trees outside the window blur together. Jinsol is right in the middle of wishing herself away when someone slides into the seat beside her, interrupting her pity party.

“Not now, Jungeun—”

“It’s me.” 

Jinsol turns, and Yerim beams at her, full force. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. That’s how Jinsol knows that something’s wrong — Yerim only does that when she’s worried; so Jinsol squeezes her eyes shut and wills the wanting in her veins to go away, just so she can focus on this conversation. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say hi.”

Jinsol crosses her arms. Her stomach is jittery with craving again — it’s getting worse. It’s like an elastic band about to snap — Jinsol doesn’t know when it’s going to happen, but she knows that when it does, she’s going to hurt someone. 

She doesn’t know how to deal with this. The only thing that keeps it at bay is feeding, and Jinsol doesn’t— Jinsol can’t— 

She grits her teeth. “Yerim…”

“Sooyoung says,” Yerim whispers, eyes darting between her and the girl in question, seemingly terrified, “that it’s okay to ask for help.” 

So Sooyoung is sending Yerim as a messenger, huh.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jinsol catches Sooyoung’s gaze, still on her. 

Yerim’s hand shoots out to pat Jinsol on the shoulder, once. Jinsol wants to slap it away — but she catches herself in time, before she hurts Yerim, and then the panic of almost hurting Yerim catches up.

She shakes her head. “Please, just don't — I’m alright, Yerim. Just a little unwell. Leave me alone for now, okay?”

Yerim nods mutedly. Jinsol rests her head on the window and stares out into the darkened sky — they’re almost back at the bus, Jinsol can go soon. She just has to hold on.

The van rumbles, and her head bounces on the glass, but Jinsol barely feels a thing — instead, she’s thinking about how disappointed everyone would be in her, if they know what Sooyoung does about her.

* * *

Jinsol barely makes it back onto the bus without collapsing. Her senses feel like they’re on fire — too much, too loud, too bright — Jinsol pulls the blankets over her head and tries to block everything out.

The craving rushes through her, burning; and Jinsol can’t do anything but wait it out because everyone is still here. She can’t go outside now — it’ll only raise questions, and Jinsol can’t do this right now, not when her grip on self-control is stretched so thin, not when she can snap at any moment.

She can hear Sooyoung’s voice. 

There’s the sound of shoes scuffling on the floor, and Jiwoo’s voice breaks into the haze Jinsol is surrounded by, loud and demanding. “Get up!”

Jinsol can make Yerim’s hushed protest behind Jiwoo— “Jinsol unnie is tired, leave her be”, but it’s weak and unconvincing. The blankets end up getting pulled off her, landing onto the floor in a sad pile of mush. 

Jinsol feels like a sad pile of mush.

“You,” Jiwoo snaps. Her face is contorted in anger, and Jinsol can’t get past the venom in her eyes. It’s horrible when Jiwoo gets angry — and now Jinsol is faced with the full force of her anger. “You hurt Sooyoung.”

Jinsol doesn’t know what brought this on. Jiwoo is confronting her out of the blue — but this is the truth, cold and plain. There’s nothing Jinsol wants to say to defend herself. 

From the corner of her eye, Jinsol sees Jungeun jump up and step closer, hand outstretched, as if trying to calm a rabid dog down. “Wooming—“ 

“No, Jungie!” Jiwoo stomps her foot, whipping the full force of her wrath onto Jungeun. “They need to sort their shit out!” 

Jinsol stares at the two of them in shock. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but Jiwoo and Jungeun are already glaring at each other, as if this was an argument they’ve already had. 

“Can we take this outside, at least,” says Jungeun pleadingly. She steps between the two of them protectively, reaching a hand behind her back sneakily. Jinsol grabs onto it. Her heart is starting to pound from worry. 

Jiwoo shakes her head. “Sooyoung told me everything. On our walks, just now on the van. I _know_ , Jinsol.”

 _Oh_. 

There is no solace in the realisation.

There’s no real reason for Sooyoung to help her hide things anymore, is there? Jinsol didn’t think that their relationship has deteriorated to this level, but— she deserves it. Utterly, completely, fully. 

Jinsol feels so hollow inside. 

“You can’t just _be_ so selfish and toy with her feelings like that,” Jiwoo continues, stern; and it’s a relief for someone to voice out everything inside Jinsol’s head. This is all her fault. And Jinsol hurt Sooyoung, and she wishes that they blew up at each other instead of this stupid war, but— 

“She _cares_ about you so much, and—”

“Jinsol’s hurting too!” Jungeun snaps back, sounding frustrated, and Jinsol flinches back.

Everyone is clamouring. Jinsol searches for the one voice she wants to hear the most, but— 

“Jiwoo, leave her alone!” 

Jungeun’s voice is too loud. 

Jinsol is ice-cold. 

_Stop._

_Too much._

There’s a shock of pain — and Jinsol’s hand flies up to cover her mouth, just in time — she can feel the tip of her fangs starting to poke out, no matter how hard she tries to retract them; it hurts. Jungeun is still arguing with Jiwoo, but Jinsol isn’t even paying attention to that anymore— all she can do is to hold on. She is stretched too thin. She can’t snap. She can’t— 

Then, Sooyoung is pushing forward. 

Then, she is wrapping her arms around Jinsol, and Jinsol forgets everything as she inhales and takes in the sweet, comforting scent, and she closes her eyes, burying her face in Sooyoung’s shoulder.

She’s trembling. 

“I’ll take it from here,” Sooyoung is saying, and Jinsol isn’t focused really on anything but Sooyoung. Not the delicious blood thrumming through her veins— Jinsol can hear her heartbeat, but the only thing that matters is that _Sooyoung is touching her_.

Sooyoung.

Sooyoung.

It’s all woozy from there. Jinsol feels like her body is on autopilot — dimly, she can sense Sooyoung pushing her off the bus, Sooyoung leading her far enough away from the bus for Jinsol to drink. Her head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton. 

“Jinsol.”

Sooyoung’s voice is low, anguished. The sound of her heartbeat is loud — was it always this fast? Did Jinsol— 

“Please, hey, look at me.”

Through the haze, Jinsol watches Sooyoung swallow. The bob of her throat stirs up something dark and ravenous inside Jinsol, and she pounces.

It’s full of desperation when she starts drinking. Sooyoung gasps, hands grasping for Jinsol, and Jinsol is just drunk off her presence. Her scent, her smell; but mostly just the feeling of Sooyoung next to her, back again. 

“Jinsol,” Sooyoung murmurs, trying to push her away, “hey, that’s enough.”

Jinsol latches onto her.

She’s in despair at the thought of Sooyoung leaving. She can’t _do_ that again. Sooyoung can’t— 

“ _Jinsol_.”

It’s the tinge of fear in Sooyoung’s voice that makes Jinsol snap out of her stupor. She springs back, chest heaving, and wipes the blood off her mouth. 

The monster inside her is quiet. There’s no sound around them apart from crickets chirping, far away; and the rush of blood inside Sooyoung is so loud that Jinsol can’t hear anything else.

The guilt rushes over Jinsol, a crescendo that keeps building and building and building and doesn't crash down. She can’t bring herself to meet Sooyoung’s eyes. She _knows_ what Sooyoung would sound like when she speaks — that stupid edge of concern in her voice, and she wouldn’t be angry, she wouldn’t blame Jinsol when Jinsol is hurting — Sooyoung always puts Jinsol first.

And Jinsol is terrified.

She _knows_ what’s going to happen — Sooyoung is going to get too close to her again, and Jinsol will need her too much to push her away again. That’s why Jinsol needs the facade between them — she deserves Sooyoung’s anger. She was cruel, she needs Sooyoung to be mad at her because she knows that sooner or later, she’s going to end up hurting Sooyoung. And Jinsol can’t deal with the consequences if she harms Sooyoung. 

“I have to go.” 

The words spill out of Jinsol’s mouth before she even knows what she’s doing. She can’t bear to watch Sooyoung’s face fall apart — so she turns around and starts walking away, legs wooden.

“No you don’t,” says Sooyoung, so quietly that Jinsol wouldn’t have heard if she weren’t a monster. “Jinsol. Jinsol, wait!”

Jinsol keeps walking.

She _has_ to. It takes all the bravado inside her to do so, but she forces her legs to keep moving because otherwise, her resolve is going to crumble.

Jinsol needs to protect Sooyoung from herself.

“You can’t just go like this!”

Jinsol spins around wildly, flinging her arms out. “I’m trying to protect you!” she shoots back, voice breaking on the last word. “Can’t you see? I’m a monster.”

Sooyoung takes a step towards her. “I don’t care about that.”

“I could have _hurt_ you.”

“But you didn’t,” says Sooyoung, “you were hungry, but you didn’t hurt me or Jiwoo or anyone else. You didn’t snap. That was all you, Jinsol, you kept it under control.”

Jinsol makes a frustrated little noise. “Not forever! I keep _telling_ you that I’m dangerous when I get like this— why do you keep coming back to me? I’m just— I’m just _trying_ to protect you, Sooyoung!”

“Because you’re important to me!”

Sooyoung’s eyes are pleading. She wrings her hands together, and Jinsol would’ve called it nervous if it were anyone else but Sooyoung. 

Sooyoung doesn’t get to do this. 

Jinsol laughs. It’s bitter, it’s mocking, it’s cruel. “Yeah, right. Did you even bother fighting for us though? I wasn’t the one who didn’t make things clear between us.”

“I care about you,” Sooyoung says softly.

“And you keep pushing me away,” Jinsol says, baring her fangs at her. “Each time I try with you, you just—” 

“I’m trying my hardest,” Sooyoung interrupts. “You don’t have to protect me.”

“Right, and when you told Jiwoo? That was you trying your hardest? You protecting yourself?”

Sooyoung strides forward and shoves Jinsol backwards _hard_ with a hand on her shoulder. 

“I would _never_ betray your trust.” Her words are intense, heavy; layered with so much emotion that it scares Jinsol — she doesn’t know if she’s ready to unravel any of it. “I just told her that I lo— we weren’t talking,” Sooyoung continues, “and that we fought. But she knows next to nothing. How could you even _think_ that I would tell her?”

There’s too much anguish in her voice. Jinsol doesn’t know how to deal with this version of Sooyoung in front of her, not when they’ve barely even spoken for weeks.

“We haven’t spoken in weeks!” Jinsol shouts. “You act like you don’t fucking care. I don’t even know how you feel about me half the time — I was an asshole that day, I know, but you never tell me anything. I _needed_ you to be honest with me. You weren’t.” 

Sooyoung shakes her head. “I _told_ you that I care about you.”

“It’s not enough,” Jinsol says, fuming — all this time, all their problems — she just needs Sooyoung to tell her where they stand, so Jinsol doesn’t have to feel so stupid around her. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

Sooyoung doesn't speak; doesn't bother to.

Jinsol nods, once. "Right," she says, sharp and biting. "Of course you won't."

“I am in love with you, you idiot!”

Jinsol freezes.

Sooyoung rubs at her face with both hands. When she pulls her hands away, there are tears in the corners of her eyes. “And you are so— so infuriating! Because you just— _do_ this thing where you think that _you’re_ not worth loving, and you just keep pulling away from me to protect me, and I don’t want that!”

“I don’t want to push you into doing something you don’t want,” Jinsol answers softly, “or hurt you.”

“I let you!” Sooyoung breathes out shakily. “I told you to ask me for help. It was fine, at first, we were happy. And then you go and kiss me,” Sooyoung whispers, sounding completely broken. “Every single time you look at me, it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest over and over, and you just kiss me like _that_ in front of Chaewon — like it’s a game to you. But I can’t even tell you to stop, because I want to keep letting you do it. But it _hurts_ , Jinsol.”

Sooyoung’s eyes scream desperation in a way that Jinsol has never seen before. She’s staring at Jinsol, dark and heavy and greedy; and Jinsol can’t bring herself to look away. Something inside of her trembles, delicate, like the first flutter of butterfly wings unfolding. 

“That’s what you wanted to hear, right?” Sooyoung laughs, “the truth. This is my truth, Jinsol. And you just won’t— won’t even do _one_ thing for me and ask me for help when you need it.”

Jinsol wants to speak. She wants to rush forward and tell Sooyoung everything she’s been wanting to say — except, the words sit inside her throat, a hard ball of desperation that is impossible to choke out. 

“You don’t love me like that,” Sooyoung says, sounding utterly convinced. In the dusk, her face is completely washed out, haggard, and her breathing comes out ragged and frantic. Something inside Jinsol cracks seeing Sooyoung like this — so small, so vulnerable, so scared. She would rather Sooyoung yell, she would rather she lash out, but hearing Sooyoung say that Jinsol doesn’t love her back _like that_ , like she believes it — it’s horrible.

Jinsol is shaking too hard to speak. Instead, she cups Sooyoung’s face with both hands, so there’s nowhere for her to look but up at Jinsol.

“Jinsol,” Sooyoung whispers, sounding so helpless and tortured that Jinsol’s heart twinges, “Don’t lie to me anym—”

Jinsol kisses her. 

It is sweet, desperate; and it says all the things that Jinsol can’t with words. She can feel Sooyoung melt into her — and how did she not notice this before? The way Sooyoung kisses back, so carefully; the way her hands rest on Jinsol’s hips and twitch to pull her closer, but don’t. 

Jinsol just wants to make up for all the time they’ve lost. 

“I care about you,” she says fiercely, pulling away. “More than you know.”

Sooyoung’s looking at her with so much incredulity that Jinsol can’t help but stroke her cheek with a thumb, as lovingly as the motion can be. “You kissed me,” Sooyoung says, trembling, “and I thought—” 

Jinsol opens her arms. Sooyoung sinks into them, and the dam breaks for both of them. 

“I thought y-you were _using_ me,” Sooyoung sobs into her shoulder, the words muffled by the soft fabric of Jinsol’s shirt. She pulls away and swipes uselessly at the damp spot. “I’m r-ruining your shirt—” she hiccups— “I’m sorry. And I was stupid enough to let you do it over and over.”

Jinsol rests her head on top of Sooyoung’s head, smushing her cheek against it. “No, I’m sorry,” she admits tearfully, sniffling, “I’m sorry for hurting you— I didn’t mean to. I just felt like— I had to do something stupid to get your attention, because you were always _gone_ with Jiwoo and I got so mad.”

Sooyoung buries her face into Jinsol’s neck. “You always have all my attention,” she mumbles.

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other. 

Everything finally starts catching up to Jinsol. She’s shaking again — the lack of space between them, the sheer intensity of her emotions — it’s overwhelming. Jinsol can’t remember how to breathe. Jinsol can’t stop her bottom lip from trembling. 

“Please don’t make me go through all of that again,” Jinsol whispers. “I don’t think I can ever live without you.”

“I know,” says Sooyoung, sniffling a final time. “Me too.”

“I’m sorry,” Jinsol repeats. She hesitates for a moment before resting her forehead onto Sooyoung’s. It’s the most intimate thing she’s ever done with someone, hovering in this position, but it’s Sooyoung — and Jinsol feels safe. _Because_ it's Sooyoung, doing this with her.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper that day,” she whispers. “I just— was so afraid of losing you.” 

Jinsol’s heart is raw, trembling, glistening in Sooyoung’s hands; but she is slowly realising that she would follow Sooyoung anywhere, even to the ends of the world, as long as she gets to be near her. She revolves around Sooyoung like a planet orbiting the sun. 

Sooyoung smiles at her. Her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, but Jinsol still thinks she’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. “I forgive you,” she mumbles, “I don’t think I can hate you even if I wanted to.”

Without breaking their eye contact, Sooyoung feels her way downwards for Jinsol’s hand — then she lifts it up to her lips, and kisses her knuckles. “Let me take care of you when you need it, okay?” she says, pulling away. Her eyes are so, so tender. Jinsol almost feels like she’s intruding, like this isn’t meant for her. 

“Okay,” Jinsol whispers. It’s a relief, like a fresh breath of air after holding in her breath for as long as she can. Jinsol didn’t know how heavy the weight on her chest was until Sooyoung swooped in and took it away. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Sooyoung murmurs. “Jinsol.”

She keeps saying Jinsol’s name like that — with all the gentleness she can muster up, like something precious to be held and cherished, with everything.

Jinsol’s heart yearns. 

The moment is so sweet, so tender that she’s almost afraid to speak, for fear that it’ll break their little bubble. But Sooyoung is in front of her, looking so damn kissable, and Jinsol can’t help it. 

She leans forward. “Can you kiss me again, please?”

Sooyoung doesn’t even bother with an answer.

Her lips meet Jinsol’s, and suddenly, Jinsol can breathe again. Everything is okay now. 

Jinsol can feel all the past hurt melt away — it doesn’t matter anymore. All the arguing, all the tension and hurting and pining — it was worth it, just for this moment of certainty. All that matters is that she chooses Sooyoung, over and over again, no matter what it takes; and that Sooyoung chooses her back. 

Sooyoung kisses Jinsol like she’s her entire world, like how she looks at Jinsol: certain, intense, sweet. And it’s everything that Jinsol has ever loved and wanted. Her eyes are closed, but she’s wrapped up in Sooyoung, and it feels so achingly right that Jinsol’s heart sings out loud with bliss. 

It feels like home.

The kiss turns slow and gentle. Neither of them move to pull away — but Jinsol is starting to feel a little light-headed, so reluctantly, she breaks apart from Sooyoung. 

“Hi,” whispers Sooyoung. She goes a little cross-eyed because she’s looking at Jinsol from so close, and it’s so silly and undeniably Sooyoung that Jinsol can’t help but beam up at her. 

“I think you are my favourite person in this entire world,” Jinsol tells her. With certainty, like Sooyoung deserves. “I love you.”

Sooyoung breaks out into her first real smile since forever. “I love you too,” she says. Everything is so impossibly tender and unhurried that Jinsol’s heart almost starts aching again. 

Sooyoung makes her feel so loved. Jinsol can feel the rosiness in her cheeks. She’s smiling so hard that her face hurts, but it doesn’t but it doesn’t matter — she feels alive. She feels like she’s floating.

Jinsol is so, so happy. 

Sooyoung swallows, still looking down at her. “It’s real this time?”

Jinsol nods.

Sooyoung’s eyes crinkle at the corners — it’s completely, utterly irresistible. Jinsol can’t help but to tilt her head up, looking into her entire world.

Falling in love with Sooyoung is inevitable.

This time, when they kiss again, it’s full of unspoken promises. Jinsol smiles against Sooyoung’s lips. 

* * *

The bus is quiet when they return. 

Jinsol swears she sees Jungeun’s curtain twitch open out of the corner of her eye, but Sooyoung’s looking at her, and Jinsol can’t concentrate on anything but the feeling of Sooyoung’s hand in hers. Her heart is heavy, but in the best kind of way — like the calm after the storm. 

“Go brush your teeth,” whispers Sooyoung, “I’ll wait for you.” 

When Jinsol comes back, breath minty, Sooyoung is waiting for her with an arm outstretched. “Come here,” she whispers.

Jinsol sinks into her embrace. She shuffles around so they’re facing each other.

 _I love you_ , Jinsol mouths.

Sooyoung smiles down at her, so fondly that Jinsol can’t help but to dart forward and kiss the corner of her lips. Sooyoung hugs her tighter. They stay like that until the morning, wrapped up in each other.

Jinsol doesn’t dream that night. 

Because why would she need to? Everything she’s even wanted is right here, beside her. 

* * *

On the flight back to Korea, Jinsol spends the entire flight with her head on Sooyoung's shoulder, satiated, drowsy. Her girlfriend— her _girlfriend_ , even thinking about the word sends a little thrill down Jinsol’s back — asks for a blanket, and drapes it over both of their laps. They're sitting so close that their thighs brush, and the tiny contact makes Jinsol's stomach flutter. It's all so tenderly new that it feels delicate. Jinsol has felt this before, when wishing for Sooyoung to pay attention to her, but it’s different now. Sooyoung is _hers_ to love. And whatever happens, she trusts that they’re going to do it together.

Jinsol wiggles around in her seat until her lips are pressed right next to Sooyoung’s ear. “We could have done this so much earlier if we weren’t so stupid.”

Sooyoung twists her head so she can stare into Jinsol’s eyes. Her gaze is warm, loving, and Jinsol wants to kiss her so badly. Sooyoung must've caught her gaze drop down to her lips, because she reaches over to squeeze Jinsol's hand.

“Later,” she says, full of promise, "we have all the time in the world now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's ever read this, left kudos and Especially to the people who comment!! i thrive off validation when it comes to my fics. "is this healthy, shovel?" i hear you ask. and no, it is not. (like genuinely tho. i doubt that this fic would've existed if not for y'all hyping me up. very sexy of you to do so.)
> 
> a very big thank you to ana and solsie for betaing!! i love you guys!!! sorry for texting u at 4am like "WAIT CAN I ADD THIS SCENE" and you having to be like "NOOOO". and kisses for laurie for watching me rework the same paragraph for 3 hours on google docs?? 
> 
> also [look at this cool fanart my friend drew](https://twitter.com/danns_twt/status/1246188910109011968?s=20)???? like UGH THE TALENT and yes i cried because it's my first time receiving fanart of stuff i wrote but sh we don't talk about that. tip: if you want to make one (1) fic author emotional, draw art for them.
> 
> also also. fun fact. originally jinsoul is the one who confesses in the scene and they cry a lot less and make out a lot more. fun fact #2. the main song i listened to on repeat for each of the chapters are running with the wolves by aurora for chapter 1, sleepover by hayley kiyoko for chapter 2 and strangely enough, the reprise in frozen 1 for chapter 3. 
> 
> ps.. feel free to leave a comment even though the fic is done,,, i treasure all of them,,, 
> 
> twitter: [yvezoul](https://twitter.com/yvezoul)  
> curiouscat: [yvezoul](https://curiouscat.me/yvezoul)  
> (just to make it clear. i don't allow reposts of any of my work, especially if names are changed and it's posted to another fandom.)


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